Bulletproof
by Nerdallicious
Summary: It started with the Darkness, that led to a shadowy secret, which led to a game of cat and mouse that would decide the fate of all of Albion. The Rebel Queen must become Bulletproof if she ever hopes to get out with her heart intact.
1. Dirty Little Secret

A/N: Wow, First fanfiction ever. I'm kind of nervous XD. Well, Hi I suppose. My name is Lorelai, but you can call me Nerdallicious. I've played both Fable 2 and 3 multiple times and it got me thinking about just how far the Queen would go to get money and of course I love Reaver, so that was how this story was born haha. I have a weird mind I know =D. I've taken a few artistic liberties, such as Reaver's eye colour and mainly the exclusion of the sanctuary because I love Jasper too much and the Sanctuary was just plain annoying. And I hate –shudders- _Hobson –shudders-. _Anyways Read, Review, I want to know if people like it before continuing. 3.

"All Hail Her Royal Majesty, Queen Raven of Albion," Walter's deep voice boomed from his spot beside the throne. Hushed conversation transformed into obnoxious cheers in an instant, the gathered crowd tripping over themselves to get brownie points with the young monarch. Raven steeled herself for whatever crushing decision she would make today, her shoulders feeling a little heavier as she stepped into the throne room. Just one court session today, you'll live. Hopefully.

Teeth ground together as Raven put on her best smile, the one that dazzled even the most cold-minded of men, as she took her seat, Walter coming to stand beside her. Raven nodded slightly to Paige who returned it with a small wry grin, noticing her monarch's best attempt to ignore the man standing across from her. Green eyes smouldered in their owner's chiselled face as they roved up and down the Queen's curvaceous body, that sly smirk that perpetually creased his rosebud lips stretching when the faintest blush stained Raven's cheeks a light pink. Raven scowled on the inside, cursing her inability to do something about the head of Reaver Industries near constant presence in her throne room. For Avo's sake she had fought countless mercenaries and screaming Hobbes, stared darkness itself in the eyes and she couldn't even ignore one egotistical man! Couldn't she at least smack him over the head or something? Wipe that smug grin off his face? No, of course not. She was the picture perfect monarch to them, an angel with dark hair, calm and wise and always smiling. Not the short-tempered, stubborn girl who she really was. Oh how she longed to shoot bottles with Elliot again, tucked away safely in some hidden corner of the garden as Logan was left to deal with all this. Childhood seemed so very far away.

Wait, Walter is talking, shut up Raven!

"Paige will represent Bowerstone Industrial and Reaver will dispute her cause," The very large man explained, motioning for the rebel leader to commence. Paige bowed stiffly, the movement incredibly out of place coming from the street-hardened young woman, before speaking.

"Your Majesty, the Industrial district has flourished under your rule and for that we will be always grateful but there is still one issue that **must** be resolved. Children continue to be enslaved in the "factories" run by our good _friend_ here. They are severely underpaid, barely given food and water and forced to work unreasonable hours for children so young. It has gone too far, your majesty, and so I ask that they be disbanded permanently," Paige explained, that fiery passion that had carried her all these years flaring in her voice. She had been pacing during her speech but stopped when Reaver smoothly took a step forward, arms resting casually on the brass walking stick he carried. Raven unconsciously sank further into the throne; cold, ornate metal digging into her back through the blue fabric of her dress.

"Now, now, let's not be unreasonable. Do you really want these children, as you insist on calling them; I prefer the term brats, running around the streets aimlessly? With their diseases, runny noses and penchant for being vandals, it's really not the best idea. Also, might I remind you that the factories are Albion's greatest revenue. You would be losing _a lot _of money by closing them down, Your Majesty, now is that really wise given our current circumstances?" Reaver's emerald eyes twinkled as he said the entire thing, as if it was all one giant joke to him. The kingdom was falling to pieces, gold slipping from between the Queen's fingers like water, Eternal Darkness only an ocean a way and this infuriating man was laughing off child enslavement? Raven's blood boiled, her fingers twitching in an overwhelming urge to draw the pistol sitting at her hip and silence the devious businessman permanently. Fortunately she was saved the action when Paige again jumped into the debacle, Raven calmly watching the two verbally sparring like the good little royal she was.

"You're talking about robbing children of their innocence for money!" Paige cried, hands curled into fists at her side as that dark childhood she had kept so well hidden behind walls of steel burst forth, burning behind dark eyes. Fortunately only the young woman who sat on the throne and her mentor knew where that darkness was truly coming from.

"Not just any money, darling. **Boatloads **of money," Reaver nonchalantly replied, any emotion he may have felt at the woman's outburst hidden behind that damned smirk.

Raven watched the two with all the grace she had been brought up with; face a blank mask as her mind worked a mile a minute behind that mask. They both had very valid points, both had favourable outcomes. Could she really force those children to work so she could have money? On the other hand, without the money most of them along with the rest of Albion would surely perish from the darkness. But then again if they were going to die, they deserved to at least have something good to remember about this life. Balls, Raven silently growled to herself followed promptly by cursing very unfitting of a Monarch.

Suddenly something furry appeared under Raven's hand, which had dangled over the side of the throne's armrest, and she looked down to see her faithful black and white hound staring at her. Rebel, named after his tendency to rebel against anyone but his master and name becoming bitterly ironic on Raven's recent journey, stared up at her with big, black eyes. Something twinkled behind those eyes, Rebel solemn as a dog could be as he barked once; silencing the two still bickering like children. To the confusion of everyone in the room save Walter the two had one of their infamous mental conversations.

"Yea, I know" Raven sighed a few moments later, smiling as the dog barked again, tongue lolling out and tail wagging happily. Out of the corner of her eye Raven saw Walter smirking behind his luxurious moustache and beard.

All fell silent as they observed their monarch, outlined in fragmented golden light from the stained glass windows behind her, holding their breaths as she delivered her verdict.

"The children will go free," Raven commanded, voice echoing around the cavernous room. There was silence, and then tumultuous cheering rose to the ears of the young monarch. Raven smiled, relief in her heart that those kids could have a good life but the weight of her debt threatening to pin her to the throne if she did any more than smile. She would have to take extra shifts that night after all.

Paige's lips curved upward in the ghost of a smile and another small nod was all the acknowledgement that Raven would get, but that was fine with her. Paige was never one for public displays of praise or affection, a trait that Raven found most refreshing.

Reaver looked bored as usual as he stared at the queen again before bowing grandly, "Your desire is my command, Your Majesty. Really, _anything_ you desire would be my humblest duty to grant"

Raven shuddered again, looking imploringly to Walter for some sort of permission that she could blow Reaver's face up with a well aimed fireball. Walter looked at Reaver with the same disdain that the Queen did but shook his head anyway. Raven harrumphed and sunk down into her seat. Maybe tomorrow then.

Finally left to her own thoughts in the comfort of her chambers, Raven sank back against the closed wooden door, sliding down until she sat on the floor. Groaning as her muscles creaked from sitting still all day, Raven ground her palms into her eyes. Her entire overwhelming situation came back with full force now she was alone, the thoughts she had chained to the back of her mind breaking free and plaguing her already fragile mind. She was frustrated, feeling just as helpless as she had when her brother had sat on the throne except now everything that could and would go wrong was entirely her fault. Ten thousand possibilities filled her mind, half featuring a gruesome death for all of Albion, gone and replaced as soon as they appeared. It was like grasping water, fruitless and endlessly aggravating. Another monotonous day had passed and she was no closer to the task that had been set for, in fact she was so far in debt that she couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel anymore. Suddenly she felt what it was like to be Logan, hated by the people because he was trying to protect them. But now she had to accomplish something that had taken him more than five years in the span of 365 days. Fate had one nasty sadistic streak.

Raven's hands reached out to grasp the soft blue carpet of her bedroom, fingers twining themselves with the bristles as she let a few tears leak from the corners of her closed eyes. She wanted to run away and leave it all behind, travel the world and completely forget who she was or the blood that ran in her veins. She wanted Logan. She wanted Elliot to be alive. She wanted her mother to tell her what to do. She was just a girl wearing her mother's crown, playing her mother's life. Raven let out a hoarse laugh that was anything but pleasant in the near darkness, disgusted and amused by herself. She hadn't wanted her mummy since she was nine and just learning to fight.

Soft whining brought Raven back to reality, a warm body flopping itself across her lap as panting filled the now silent room. Raven smiled faintly to herself, hands patting her faithful companion as she took a deep breath and stood up. Now was not the time to be sulking in dark rooms, she thought to herself, the entire kingdom is depending on me to protect them, I can't just run away and hide.

With that thought in mind, Raven softly padded around the room to light candles Jasper had left over from last night. When that was done, revealing gilded wooden walls and patterned deep blue carpet, she sat down at her dresser and set about carefully taking the metal pins out of her hair that kept the crown secure. After peeking around the room to confirm she was alone, Raven pressed a secret button in the back of her dresser and took out the clothes that would hopefully earn her enough money to pay off her debts. They could also prove to be her undoing, if anyone ever found out where she disappeared to at night. It was a secret that weighed heavily on her mind whenever she looked at her people, but it was her secret alone to carry.

Raven studied herself in the full length mirror sitting in the corner of the rooms she had used while still a Princess, having declined the offer to be moved to Logan's rooms. It just felt wrong to her. Short black skirt that barely reached her knees covered her most treasured areas, a long, sheer black train reaching to her ankles rose out from the back. Knee-length fishnet stockings run up her legs followed by her usual leather lace-up boots. A black corset traced each of her curves, barely covering the tips of her breasts, her long, unbound, chocolate brown waves doing the best work at covering up the skin exposed. Each item of skimpy clothing was trimmed in royal purple silk. These were the clothes of a prostitute; Raven mentally grimaced, securing a black and violet half-mask over her eyes. This was her dirty, little, secret. Securing a cloak around her barely clothed body, she pulled the hood down over her eyes, obscuring herself from view to anyone unless they really looked. Everyone had to do what they could to protect Albion, Raven had said during her coronation speech, no matter the sacrifice they must make. _No matter the sacrifice_. She was really starting to regret those words.

Chilly autumn air whispered to the lone figure of a girl wandering down the back alleys of Bowerstone Industrial, the siren call of the deceptive, waiting waters too much for some of the people that Logan forgot. Taking one's life was not uncommon in this grizzly part of the great city know to all as Bowerstone. Arms wrapped around the figures small body to fend off the cold, eyes locked on the grey cobblestone but her pace a little too brisk for the downtrodden residents of the Industrial.

Raven bit down on her lip and hurried her steps into a near run as something cold ran down her spine, dread running down her throat to pool into rocks in her stomach. She had always felt bad when coming to the building she was fast approaching, it's flashing lights and lecherous inhabitants like a twisted second home to the young woman, but never this horrible. She felt like she could wretch, her head dizzy, but when she was forced to stop and try her inner self quickly reminded her she had not eaten all day. Something very bad was going to happen.

Raven slipt around to the back of the large building, steps unconsciously slowing down as a sweaty hand reached for the handle of the back door. Her heart pounded in her chest, making her ribs hurt somehow.

"You're just being paranoid Raven," She scolded herself, taking a deep breath, "you've done this a thousand times, just go in, do a little dance, serve those bastards their drinks and get your money"

A furry head peaked out curiously from between her legs, looking at her than staring pointedly to the door. Raven took another deep breath to calm her erratic heartbeat before opening the door and heading inside, Rebel bounding along excitedly in front of her.

Loud squeals followed by pearls of soft, feminine laughter reached Raven's ears as she walked into the preparation room. All of the prostitutes were gathered around Rebel, patting his silky fur or cooing soft words to him like they would a baby. Rebel, for his part, loved the attention, barking and rolling onto his back merrily. Raven smiled softly, taking off her cloak and hanging it over a chair. The prostitutes had never objected to Rebel's presence, some even referring to him as their knight; a sentiment that reminded her painfully of Elliot. If any of them had recognized him by the Queen's side outside of this house none of them mentioned it, it was a certain unspoken rule between them: Say nothing about anyone and no-one will say anything about you. It had worked to keep her identity hidden for all these months, and for that Raven was eternally grateful.

"Oi, you lot, get back out there," A gruff voice commanded from the doorway and Raven looked over to see the short, balding figure of the Whorehouse's proprietor; Jacob. All of the prostitutes jumped up as one and shuffled out of the room. Another unspoken rule apparently. A few seconds later Raven joined them but as she was about to enter the main floor, a clammy hand clasped around her arm, jerking her back.

"We need a girl on for some more…private clients. You're the only one left sweetheart," Jacob explained with a toothless leer. Raven repressed the sudden urge to have a very long bath and quickly scanned the room. Just as Jacob had said: completely and utterly deserted. Balls.

"This way," Jacob said, leading her through a secret door that appeared to skirt the main room, where loud music and much laughing could be heard through the thin walls and end up directly in front of the private rooms. Jacob pulled her roughly toward a pair of carved red doors and Raven was about to snap that she was a strictly no touch dancer. But all words and logical thought left her as quickly as the breath escaping her lungs as Jacob opened the doors to reveal the reason why her stomach had churned. For their sitting on a plush red couch, a glass of some expensive looking wine in one hand and legs crossed over each other, sat the very man she had been trying to avoid all day.

_Reaver._


	2. Nightmares

A/N: Hmm, I'm thinking about bumping this up to M rating, what do you think? Anyways much love to all those who reviewed and/or added the story to alerts and favourites, I literally squealed when I saw people had liked it (scared the bajeebus out of my brother by doing so, which is always a plus =D). Reaver's a bitch to write, or maybe I just suck at writing witty comments, and I fear that he is wildly out of character in this chapter haha. On a side note: I listened to When You're Evil by Voltaire the entire time I was writing this chapter, it reminded me of Reaver haha. Read, Review and just generally enjoy. And yes Jacob is a pimp ^0^.

"Master R-Reaver, my greatest apologies for the w-wait," Jacob stuttered nervously, shoving Raven harshly forward. She growled at him when she nearly tripped over the train of her skirt but was quickly silenced when a tray, containing three glasses and a bottle of the most expensive wine they had, was shoved into her hands.

Reaver, who had apparently just noticed the two's presence, glanced over at them lazily, swirling the dark red liquid around in the crystal glass as he stared at Jacob.

"Don't apologize, my good man. Just…" A loud click resounded through the suddenly deathly silent as a gun was cocked. Raven froze, fingers reaching for her own gun, hidden in a fold of her corset, as she took in the sight of Reaver pointing the deadly weapon at her boss idly. Jacob for his part was doing a remarkably good job of not fainting, his body trembling slightly as all colour drained from his face. Reaver smirked as he took a sip from his drink, "…don't let it happen again, compris?"

"Y-y-yes s-s-sir," Jacob nodded fiercely before promptly bolting out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him ominously.

Cigar smoke hung heavily on the air, so thick it obscured the elaborate red wallpaper, and the bitter scent of alcohol burnt Raven's sensitive nostrils. Without a word she stepped forward, noticing the two other men sitting across from Reaver fidgeting nervously, and set down the tray on a small wooden table separating the two plush red couches where Reaver and the two mystery men sat.

"That man should really see someone about the stuttering," Reaver said to no-one in particular and Raven was suddenly very glad the mask and curtain of hair obscured the fury blazing in her brown eyes from him. She may not like Jacob but it was one thing to simply dislike someone behind their back and threaten them at gunpoint for no apparent reason.

She bit down on her tongue as she poured the wine into the three goblets but alas, Queen Raven of Albion was not known for her ability to hold back, "Or maybe someone could stop threatening him with a gun. It may help somewhat,"

Emerald eyes snapped to her as a smirk curved his lips but Raven was already gone, trotting over to stand against the wall. She knew he was watching her, even though he continued to stare at everything and nothing, as he took one of the goblets from the tray and sipped thoughtfully.

"Gentlemen go ahead, I promise I didn't poison them," Reaver winked at the two staring at the wine longingly. After a tense moment one of the fidgeting men, a man with deep auburn hair and stormy blue eyes, reached for a goblet attentively. He appeared to be the braver of the two, the other watching with wide hazel eyes; still refusing to take the remaining goblet but his expression betraying how much he wanted it.

Raven studied the trio curiously, wondering what on earth Reaver wanted with a pair of what looked like simple citizens. The devious businessman was not exactly known for his love of the common folk, unless he was trying to bed them, but then if the rumours were true Raven thought he would not have to go to such lengths. Then again, if Reaver was trying to bed them she really didn't want to be around. Still the question remained, what was he doing? Logan had often told her that curiosity killed the cat, or in her case the idealistic princess, and she was nothing if not morbidly curious.

But as she watched the three, two drinking silently, she felt her eyes being inexplicitly drawn to the imposing lithe figure of Reaver. Raven's mother had often told her stories about the infamous Pirate King: unofficial ruler of Bloodstone and the devil incarnate, how he had sold her out twice on her quest for heroes and would gladly do it a third time if the right offer came along, but she had never explained why he hadn't aged. More like _wouldn't_ tell her daughter the gruesome intricacies of the man's extended lifetime. Always such tales were followed with a warning, _Stay away from him my little Raven,_ and occasionally by a fit of jealousy by her father. She still didn't understand what sparked those fits and now she supposed she never would. As she had grown up and Logan had become somewhat "friends" with the man, Raven had found herself becoming increasingly _fascinated_ by Reaver. She had known he was a hero even when she was young, known it by the way her father's eyes had often lingered at the pistol holster on Reaver's hip whenever he had been around and known it by the way his aura had the same almost golden hue as her mother, and her obsession with the old tales had kicked in. Then as Raven had reached adolescence, there had been the giggles among the young servants and kitchen staff, rumours of sordid affairs and just how _awesome_ Reaver was in the bedroom. Raven shuddered at the memory of her old handmaiden who had told her in great detail about the night she had spent with the man.

She studied Reaver from beneath her mask as discreetly as possible, trying to figure out just how he had charmed all those women into bed. Reaver had removed his top hat, exposing perfectly styled thick black hair, a sharp contrast to emerald green eyes and lightly tanned skin. His white coat, lavishly trimmed in black fur that Raven hoped was fake, accentuated wide shoulders narrowing down into masculine hips and long legs. As Reaver shifted slightly in his seat for reasons completely lost on Raven, she noticed the black holster and pistol peeking out from it strapped to his thigh. She scowled as she stared at the heart shaped tattoo under his left eyes, completely bewildered about what other women saw in him and at the same time wondering what had possessed a man to get a tattoo like that.

Raven was so lost inside her own head that she didn't notice the men had all stopped to look at her and it was only when the loud snap of fingers resounded around the room did she tune back in to reality. A fierce blush blazed across her cheeks as a wide smirk greeted her startled gaze. Reaver had noticed her attentions and by the look in his eyes an egotistical comment was on its way. Yes, Raven had no idea what the other women saw in him.

"Now, dear, I know I'm simply entrancing, but I believe my company is rather parched," Reaver stated smugly, gesturing with a gloved and to the three empty goblets and drained bottle. Raven could have cut in with the fact that his company was looking decidedly more relaxed and just about ready to vomit their stomachs out but decided it was best to stay her tongue that time. His comment was after all her fault, though she loathed to admit it as she walked over to the table. Reaver's eyes followed her every movement, making the scant footsteps feel like a ten mile hike. In the rain. With demonic chickens trying to peck out her eyeballs.

"I will have to go and get some more wine," Raven ground out from behind clenched teeth, heart secretly lifting at the thought of escaping this dank room and a certain someone's insufferable presence. But, like a flame being snuffed out, her hopes were shattered when a strong arm snaked around her waist and a gloved hand clasped her wrist and pulled her back into a lap. Raven gasped out loud despite some survival mechanism deep inside her that insisted that she shut up and felt the deep chuckle come from the chest flush with her back long before she actually heard it. Trying not to tip off the other two men that something was wrong, which it was, she tried to push away from Reaver but was only rewarded with both his arms enclosing her in an iron vice. Raven cursed under her breath, shaking her head to make her hair fall around her face, last minute identity obscuring tactics.  
"Do not worry about it, belle, just _relax_," Reaver purred in Raven's ear, soft breath tickling the hair on the back of her neck. Despite herself, Raven found her heartbeat quickening, a strange, foreign feeling pooling in the centre of her stomach. It was like she was really; really nervous and incredibly angry at the same time, her skin felt all tingly and the blush quickly burning up her face was fiercer than ever. Silently, she quickly assessed if she had a fever, and then when it was clear that was not the case Raven tried to think back to if Jasper had said anything like this would happen when she became a hero. Nope, so then what was it?

"Alex," Reaver said, tone still jovial but somehow sharper, and the man who had first taken a drink moved his eyes to Reaver with obvious effort. He grinned goofily at the two of them before his eyes slunk to Raven's exposed chest and drool dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. Sparks danced between Raven's fingertips threateningly. "Would you care to get me some wine?"

"Of 'orse siiirrr," Alex said almost hypnotically, getting up from his seat and swaying dangerously before stumbling out of the room, the other man hot on his heels for some reason. As the door shut close behind them, the sound of loud, off-key singing floated back into the room followed by giggling and hiccupping.

Raven wasted no time taking up her struggles once again, almost viciously this time as she clawed at the arms holding her in place while wriggling violently. She considered the idea of using her will powers but decided against it, if Reaver had not already figured out who she was (she was hoping he hadn't) that would certainly giver her away and there was always the slight chance she set the Brothel on fire. Well more than a slight chance actually.

"Let me go," Raven hissed viciously, putting as much acid into her voice as she could muster beyond the furious pounding of her heart.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Reaver chuckled, flipping Raven around in one graceful movement so they faced each other, her hands pressed against his chest to stop her from falling. She froze when their gazes locked; heated brown challenging amused green. That funny feeling in her stomach increased tenfold, causing waves of nausea to roll over her. Something was wrong, very, very wrong.

"Let me go!" She repeated, unconsciously gasping as he shifted and their hips met. A wave of pleasure jolted through her, adding to Raven's already rapidly growing confusion.

"Still not inclined to do as you ask," Reaver drawled infuriatingly, leaning forward so their faces were only inches apart when he breathed, "_Persuade_ me"

Raven's mouth opened and closed uselessly as her mind struggled to remember to breathe let alone formulate words. She was too consumed by his face. It was there. Like, _right there._ And his eyes, they were so green and oooh pretty. But if she looked closely she swore she could see inky darkness swirling around the edges. That thought jolted her back to reality like ice cold water being thrown onto one who was deep asleep. She needed to get away, stat.

"I order yo-," Raven started but abruptly cut herself off when she realized what she was about to say. A spark flared to life behind Reaver's eyes, gears working in his head when an arrogant look took over the smooth planes of his face. The look seemed to say, _caught you_.

"Well if they are your orders I suppose I have to let go," Reaver said slyly, one gloved hand trailing across her exposed chest to finger the silver necklace laying against the hollow of her chest. Raven's blood froze in her veins, "_Your majesty"_

The pendant. She hadn't taken the pendant off. The pendant of a silver raven, a royal blue teardrop sapphire hanging from its tail. The pendant that was as much an indicator of who she was as the crown that sat on her head heavily during the day. She always took it off, stashing it inside her mother's jewellery box. But as her eyes, wide with fear, reluctantly left Reaver's smug face to look at the ornament grasped in his hand she knew it could only be one thing.

Raven had blown it.

All those weeks of sneaking out at midnight, doing everything possible to cover her tracks, and lying to those she cared about and she had blown it all in one night because of that stupid necklace and this infuriating man. The news would spread like wildfire, starting at the castle and then spreading to all of Albion and even eventually Aurora. She would be the laughing stock of the world, the prostitute Queen. Raven could see the noble's sneers, the whispered insults flying on the breeze like a bad smell. She would never be taken seriously again, couldn't be.

The smoke-riddled room was suddenly much too small, the walls descending on her with their wallpaper that looked too much like blood. Her whole body shook, her mouth tasted like ash. Breathing hurt as she tried to force air down into her lungs, she was choking on her own saliva. With the only thought playing in her mind being, _Run_, Raven's arm lashed out of its own accord and before she could stop it rammed her elbow into Reaver's stomach. She took sick satisfaction in the way his eyes bugged out of his head, hands releasing her as he coughed violently. Without a second thought she picked herself off the ground where she had landed and ran for the door.

Raven ran and ran until she didn't know where she was anymore, until her legs were in agony from weeks of inaction. She keeled over in a dark corner of nowhere, panting heavily as she wrapped arms around herself and let silent tears fall. Everything was falling to ruins around her; it was too much for one person to handle on their own. Even too much for a hero.

Somewhere in the back of Raven's scattered mind a voice pointed out nastily that she wouldn't be getting her pay check for that night because she had hurt the customer. Goodness gracious, great balls of fire.

XXX

One would think that after the day and partial night that the Queen of Albion had experienced that sleep would prove a welcome release, soft arms to lure her into a comforting embrace. Unfortunately that was not to be the case, for as soon as Raven's eyes slid shut she found herself in a dream visage of Bowerstone Castle.

She stood outside the throne room, the wooden doors in front of her flickering slightly like the walls surrounding it. All the colour was muted, making the room feel cold and lifeless, and as she put her hands to the brown wood to push the door open a fierce chill creeped along her bones.

"All stand to attention for the Queen of Albion," Walter's booming voice echoed around the room but unlike the usual there was no cheers that met her entrance. Instead there was only silence. There were no hands raised into the air from people whom she had never met but still loved her. There was no Walter to smile at her warmly as she ascended to her throne. There was no Paige, or Ben, or Logan to fight for the kingdom. And, Avo save her for thinking it, there was no Reaver. There was only silence, frigid, lonely silence.

_Where is everyone?_

"You let them die," A new voice broke through the silence, a voice so familiar it pierced Raven's heart as surely as a knife in the dark. She spun around from her spot in front of the throne, hair forming a dark veil around her as her eyes widened and her heart clenched as she took in the sight before her.

It was Elliot.

Elliot with his chocolate brown hair mused like it had been on their last day together, tips dyed red. Elliot with dark eyes gouged out, tears leaving ugly scars down his cheeks. Elliot with his tattered clothing, a large hole in his chest, dark blood stains blooming along his shirt. Elliot, who was and still is her best friend. Elliot, whom she had condemned to death for the good of Albion.

Raven reached out for him, fingers longing to run through his hair again, to entwined themselves with his and run through the gardens together, but stopped herself at the last moment. He stood only a few steps from her, at the base of the steps leading up to the throne, but something was wrong about him. Dark energy emanated from him, striking dread into Raven's stomach as the same time yearning filled her heart. She couldn't speak past the lump in her throat; only stare as his missing eyes looked at her. No, not at her, through her.

"You let them die, all of them," Elliot repeated, voice hollow, "just like you let me die"

"No!" Raven exclaimed, surging forward, before she whispered, "I didn't…"

"But you did," Elliot's voice was everywhere at once as he disappeared, bearing down on her like the weight of the world, "you watched as they dragged me away, you saw as they put a bullet through my chest just like you'll watch as everything in this world is swallowed by the darkness"

Raven spun hopelessly, trying to find the source of the disembodied voice but was rewarded only with nothingness. Her body shook as she dropped to the floor, the skirts of her dress pooling around her feet, and she wrapped her arms around herself. She was going insane.

A new voice took over, the gravelly voice all too familiar as it taunted, "The darkness is inside you! You cannot escape it, it follows you everywhere!"

No…

"We will snuff out every last light, smother every breath from every mouth, and stop the beating of every heart"

No…

"Are you thinking of your loved ones? Are you thinking about how you will never see them again?"

"No!" Raven screamed, pressing her hands to her hears as she screamed. She needed the voice to go away but it would not. It was everywhere at once, inside her head and out. Raven screamed and screamed until her body gave out under her and she fell to the floor, broken. _Tainted…broken little toy…_

XXX

Raven was so lost in the throes of her nightmare that she didn't wake when the doors to her chamber were thrown open with a loud bang that shook the walls and Jasper and Walter rushed in, flanked on either side by worried and frightened handmaidens. Signs of exhaustion were clearly apparent on all of them, dark bags under eyes and heavy lines furrowing foreheads. Without a word Jasper and Walter moved to hold down Raven as she thrashed and writhed, rising up from the bed and eyes opening but unseeing as she screamed and the handmaidens set to work trying to wake their Queen up with practiced efficiency.

None of them noticed the tall figure that observed the scene with dark fascination from the shadows, piercing green eyes watching the young monarch as she lashed out at something only she could see inside her own mind.

"Interesting…" He breathed before simply disappearing into the darkness from whence he came. As the Queen's servants thought back on that day they could have sworn that the sinister whisper reached their ears but was quickly lost at the urgency of other matters.

French Translations:

Compris – Understood

Belle - Beautiful


	3. Reaver's Unmentionables

So far, so good, Raven thought happily as she pressed herself against the grey stone walls of the Market District. She had snuck out early that morning, the golden beams of dawn barely reaching down to the castle, and was currently making slow progress toward a quest she had been putting off for some time. She was supposed to have a full day of court sessions but Raven could barely stand the thought of sitting in that room while they laughed at her. She was already having a hard enough time on the nearly deserted streets, her heart hammering loudly in her chest and breathing becoming laboured as she steeled herself for embarrassment whenever she walked past a civilian, and the only people littering the Market District were bleary-eyed stall owners. True not even they had said a word, but that didn't mean anything, the day was still young after all.

Making her barely audible footsteps as light as possible Raven slunk across the bridge from the Market District, keeping her chocolate eyes pinned to the ground. Every so many minutes she would glance back over her shoulder, a distinct chill crawling up her spine. Raven swore she could hear the faint beginnings of cruel laughter on the light summer breeze as it caressed her ear. Her nightmare still haunted her, the same way the uncountable ones before it did. Every time Elliot would be used as some sort of sick vassal for the darkness, playing upon her every fear like an elder sibling would play on the younger's fear of the dark. The only thing keeping her sane was that hope in her heart that was convinced she could beat it, _would_ beat it. But even then that hope was flickering, like a flame in the wind, and Raven feared one day even that would burn out.

Raven shook her head, clearing her head of all those thoughts that would only bog her down, and focused on the task ahead of her. Stepping through the gates of the Market District, out onto the cobblestone path that led to Millfields, she heard the distinct ramblings of the fabled Benjamina; Reaver's number one fan.

"Reaver rules, Reaver rocks, I love Reaver's smelly socks!" Benjamina sang as Raven swung open the gate leading into her little garden. Dark eyes lit up as the strange woman clasped the young monarch's hand in her own, by the looks of it she didn't recognize who she was. Raven watched as the strange flowery growths from the girl's headband bobbled as Benjamina grinned enthusiastically.

"Have you come to admire Reaver with me?" Benjamina asked and Raven scoffed silently, "or perhaps…oh, are you here for my request?"

"Uh, the request actually, what was it again?" Raven asked, somewhat less enthusiastically then her companion, slowly extracting her gloved hand from the woman's iron grasp. Benjamina didn't seem to notice as she danced around in a circle where she stood.

"Finally! Well, you see, I have a bit of a collection of Reaver collectables. Portraits, old discarded items, even a photograph…although it is a bit bloody. But I'm missing one thing," Benjamina explained, face falling a little bit towards the end but it soon picked up its usual annoyingly chipper expression.

"What?" Raven asked hesitantly, still unsure if she really wanted to know. She almost felt sorry for Reaver, having such an obsessive fan girl, but then she remembered the events from last night and reasoned that he had probably brought it on himself.

"His underwear of course!" Benjamina exclaimed. Oh dear, Raven thought, this was not going anywhere good. "I would get them myself but I'm not allowed to go within one hundred metres of the place since…well that's not important. The mansion's supposed to be abandoned anyway so I could get it…but I really don't want to spend another night in the dungeons. So could you get them for me?"

Raven almost said no, she didn't really want to go snooping around Reaver's house, especially not to find his underwear. She shuddered at the thought but there was still the fiery girl inside her that cut in with just what Reaver was going to put her through by exposing her secret. Besides what was he going to do about some missing undies anyway, he couldn't exactly call the guards. Raven's scowling face changed into a wicked grin and she rubbed her hands together in anticipation. Revenge was so very, very sweet.

"Of course!" Raven cried, enthusiasm building in her bones. It would just be like old times, without the whole overthrowing her brother part. Well, maybe not so different.

"How wonderful! According to my research, there should be a secret passage from Reaver's bedroom into his pleasure chamber; there should be some underwear in there," Benjamina explained matter-of-factly. Raven wondered just how far this woman had gone to warrant a restraining order, the way she talked wasn't exactly comforting. She cringed at the thought of where her "research" had come from.

"Alright, I'll go now" Raven confirmed, surprisingly warmed at the sparkling smile and gratuitous thanks that followed her as she departed from Benjamina's home and made her way to Millfields. Oh this was going to be fun.

XXX

The walk to Reaver's Mansion was relatively pleasant; the late morning sun warming her skin as she merrily strolled. She only encountered one group of Balverines, which she dispatched quickly with fire and lightning. The Will flowing through her veins and the power exploding from her fingertips made her skin tingle, a feeling which she realized she had terribly missed in her weeks on sitting on a throne and exerting only her mind. Raven loved the way her muscles bunched and retracted as she ran the satisfying rush of air as a bullet was fired from her treasured pistol, even the rewarding crunch as her sword made cut through flesh. She was glad she had changed into her dark practical princess shirt, with blue highwaymen trousers, and her mercenary boots and gloves as she ran through the rest of Millfields with inhuman speed, the sparkling blue of the lake where she had always imagined she would marry rushing by beside her.

It was too soon when Raven reached the double, wrought-iron gates that led to the gardens of her targets very lavish home. She remembered the mansion from her quest with Paige, the large stone Reaver staring out at the lake with that trade-mark smirk as the fountain nearby trickled musically, and as she walked up the stone steps to the manor she couldn't help but feel a sense of Déjà vu. She could almost hear the rambling of Reaver's former servant, Hatch, who had met his demise at the hands of Reaver's pet Balverines, as she opened the wide double doors and stepped into the foyer.

Vivid red met her as Raven gazed around to figure out where Reaver's bedroom was; the walls were lined with red gilded wallpaper, a long red carpet, trimmed in gold ran down the wooden stairs as if someone had died violently on those stairs. Even the hard-wood floors she stood on were tinged with red. And everywhere there were portraits of Reaver, as he was now standing outside one of his factories and sometimes there was Reaver dressed all in red with dark brown hair but those green eyes still shone out. Raven guessed this was the Reaver that her mother had told her about, the Pirate King. Oh how very typical of him, Raven mused sarcastically, to have his entire home filled with pictures of himself. Damn, heartless, egotistical, fascination of a man.

After some more searching Raven was completely stumped as to where Reaver's bedroom was so she decided to snoop a little bit, not putting it past him to have his quarters hidden behind a secret passage. She started with the room left of her, where her heart almost stopped when she saw the metal birdlike creature that stared back at her lifelessly. She had fought dozens of these things in the Crawler's evil temple, the instinct to do so making her drop into an offensive stance and charge the Will to her fingertips. Tense moments passed and the creature did not move, Raven let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding and slowly eased herself back into a normal stance. So Reaver had been to Aurora as well huh. She wondered if she would ever get over what she had seen in that darkness.

Raven quickly deserted that room, a long scar on her arm starting to ache at the memory of Aurora's odd enemies, and entered the room across the foyer which appeared to be a study of some description. She decided there was nothing important in there and returned to the foyer. Raven's eyes immediately fell upon the rich wood piano tucked away in a corner, outlined in gold by the flickering of candles next to it. A strange urge grasped Raven and she walked over to it, running her fingers among glistening wood and smooth ivory. I wonder if Reaver plays, she mused. She could imagine him sitting at the piano, long, elegant fingers coaxing a dark tune from the instrument with eyes closed, long, dark lashes casting shadows on his high cheekbones.

_He would make the music even more beautiful._

Before she could fully process what she had just thought Raven pressed one of the keys, a single, high note piercing the air around her with a shrill tongue. A smooth, baritone note soon joined in, caressing the first note in musical ecstasy. Soon Raven found herself cranking out a melody she hadn't heard in a very long time, her fingers moving of their own accord as they played. A bittersweet song of emotions only their owner could ever understand, memories that only she could see intertwined in the dark tune, embraced the air around Reaver's Mansion.

"Beautiful…" Raven murmured when finally her fingers stilled and the room dropped into pressing silence. She didn't care, too lost in the simple beauty the music had displayed too her, nor did she hear the shifting of furniture coming from upstairs.

XXX

Unbeknownst to the young hero who sat obliviously downstairs, her music had stirred a certain Pirate King turned Businessman from his musings in his private study. Reaver had woken only half an hour earlier and had already retired to his study for the day, glass of foreign wine in hand, to sit in dark contemplation of his two-hundred-plus years of life when the dark tune that tugged at his memory had made its way up to his space. His immediate reaction was to discover the intruder in his home, which he did, rising from his red, plush, velvet chair and drawing his treasured pistol. But as he silently stalked down the halls of his home, nothing more than a shadow on the walls, the music had become louder and more persistent in his thoughts the closer he came to its source.

Where had he heard that song before?

As he turned the last corner in the twisting hallways and caught sight of a certain brunette queen sitting at his piano, it all rushed back to him. Sparrow had often hummed that song when he had annoyed her too much, the melody seeming to calm her down, and apparently had passed it down to her daughter. Although this tune was slightly altered, gloomier than its predecessor but still possessing that haunting beauty that stirred something deep within Reaver that he'd much rather forget. Well it was to be expected that the tunes would be different, Reaver thought. The Rebel Queen shared much of her mother's fiery characteristics, but where Sparrow had been rough edges and bent on revenge, Raven was all defined, majestic elegance and cool control; as much from her upbringing as her natural qualities. She was the type that would either overcome whatever challenged her or falter before them and go out with a bang. Reaver had seen her type many times before and knew from experience that there was no middle ground for them. Like a ghost Reaver blended himself into the shadows cast by the great wooden stairs he had just descended content to watch the hero queen as she stood up from the piano and walked up the stairs. A smirk stretched over his face at the decision he had made last night.

XXX

Oh now that is just unnecessary, Raven sneered, taking in the massive cage creaking next to her and the numerous chains hanging from the wall. At her feet a plump white rabbit skidded out from underneath the rich wood four-poster bed, purring happily before hopping off up the path she had taken to get to this room while chickens clucked loudly from the cage. Raven cringed as she stepped into the room, fearing her innocence would be ruined just by standing in the chamber. She had known Reaver was kinky but not _this_ kinky. And what were the animals doing here anyway? On second thoughts, she didn't want to know.

Swallowing her self-preservation instincts Raven set to her task, rifling through cupboards, drawers, really anything made of wood, but only coming up with a lot of something she'd much rather not ever think of until she was married. Chocolate eyes ran over the golden lettering stitched onto the red satin sheet that spelled out two R's intertwined, before leaving them and settling on the chest of drawers beside the bed where a pair of red striped underwear sat inconspicuously.

"Eureka!" Raven cried, running over to the drawer and grasping her prize with an outstretched hand. She was pretty sure they were diseased somehow, but let out a sigh of relief anyway at the thought of ridding herself of this stupid task. She really would have preferred court sessions with gossiping nobles after all. That was until she heard a voice speak and her blood turned to ice.

"Should I even ask what you're doing?" A familiar drawl resounded throughout the crimson room. Raven cursed to deepest depths of Skorm's realm whoever had informed Benjamina that the mansion was abandoned, and Benjamina herself for giving her this idiotic task. Screaming curses silently at whoever happened to cross her mind, including Reaver himself, she considered lying to the man she knew stood behind her but decided against it. Truth it was then.

"What does it look like? I'm stealing your underwear, duh," Raven deadpanned, spinning around to face Reaver while keeping the aforementioned item at arm's length. He was leaning against the door frame casually, that smug smirk again on his lips, and completely naked from the waist up. Raven's eyes dropped immediately to the tiled floor, a faint blush staining her cheeks. The soft padding of footsteps alerted her that he had moved, but Raven refused to move her eyes, suddenly fascinated by the odd golden pattern sprawling across the tiles.

"May I inquire why?" Reaver asked, gloating voice much too close, "You know, my dear, if you wanted them that badly all you had to do was ask,"

"Oh Avo no!" Raven cried, head shooting up in fury, and an odd squeak her throat as she came eyes to chest with Reaver. He was so close she could feel the heat of his bare skin, the heady scent that radiated off of him, and she couldn't help but stare at the smooth planes of his chest. Swallowing around the lump in her throat, Raven tried to remember what she had just been thinking only seconds earlier. Damnit why did Reaver always have that effect on her?

"I, uh, I'm g-getting them f-for a…friend" Raven managed to get out though the fuzzy haze that currently inhabited her head. Friend was the understatement of the year, but there was no way in hell she was going to let Reaver know that.

"Oh, I'm sure that's very likely," Reaver gloated, taking a step forward which unconsciously caused Raven to take a step backward but her legs were met with the sturdy wood of the chest of drawers. Raven gulped worriedly, her heart pounding a mile a minute as Reaver's strong arms came up to rest on the chest she leaned against, effectively trapping her in place. She cursed that he was a full head taller than her, an impressive feat indeed. She met Reaver's emerald gaze head on, crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly in a rare show of the girl she used to be. She refused to back down.

"Let me go," Raven hissed, eyes flashing dangerously. Reaver merely met her challenge with a smirk and a small chuckle that rumbled deep within his chest. This man was brave indeed to laugh at a hero, Reaver darkly thought, but then again he had fought beside her mother. He had to know just how powerful a combination all three hero powers were in someone with as short a temper as Raven. But she had one more trick up her sleeve.

"Now why would I do that when I've got you just how I want," Reaver said arrogantly, shifting ever the bit closer to the rebel queen and relishing in the way her breath hitched slightly. His victory was short lived however when the cold steel of his beloved Dragon Stomper was pressed to his chin. Raven grinned happily, her finger resting lazily on the trigger of the pistol, pleased at how he had reacted just like she knew he would. Arrogance often led to Ignorance that worked in her favour because Reaver hadn't noticed the way her hand had snuck down to the holster on his thigh, too absorbed in the faked little movements of her body.

"You'll let me go because if you don't I'll blow your brains out of that pretty little head of yours," Raven proclaimed, fingers pressing ever so slightly down on the trigger so the pistol made a threatening chink sound as it loaded. Everything was going to plan, Raven thought smugly, just like she expected. What she didn't expect was when Reaver let out a loud, hearty laugh, tears pricking in emerald eyes as the deep laughter filled the room. Raven watched on, eyebrows knitted together in confusion, as he stopped laughing and turned to her again with renewed arrogance written all over his refined features.

"Bravo, you sly little minx, but…" Reaver leered and Raven's breath caught in her throat as something cold and menacing poked into her stomach. Balls. "You didn't really think you could threaten me with my own gun did you? I'm _Reaver_, my dear. No mortal has ever walked away from trying to kill me alive, and trust me plenty have tried. Now, drop the gun"

Raven made no attempt to move, eyes dropping down to the twin to the gun she held pressed against her stomach and the two empty holders strapped to his legs. Quick jabs of the pistol made her growl irratibly and throw the Dragon Stomper onto his nearby bed. Reaver's head tipped to the side as he regarded with a smirk, contempt plain in the deep green of his eyes.

"Good girl," Reaver purred and Raven wanted nothing more to punch him square in his jaw, preferably rendering him unconscious but she was good either way. A few moments passed tensely between them, but the gun still stayed pointedly at her stomach.

Raven eyes him warily as she asked, "Aren't you going to let go of the gun?"

"Of course not," Reaver scoffed, "I'm going ask you a question,"

"Who says I'll answer," Raven bit out venomously but was quickly reminded of the deadly weapon aimed at her when a loud click echoed throughout the room. "Touché"

Reaver chuckled, the sound strangely eerie to Raven's ears, before asking, "Why are you working at a brothel?"

Raven's eyes widened in shock, all the memories she had successfully forgot on this quest, crazy as it was, rushing into her mind. Her skin burned from the imprint of his touch on her hips, the baffling feeling that had twisted her stomach still lingering somewhat between the scant spaces separating them now. Then there was the crushing humiliation that was waiting for her back at the castle because of this man, the dread that made her want to run away and never come back more than ever. The whole thing was like a bad taste in her mouth as she glared at Reaver obstinately refusing to tell him anything about what the hell he had caused. But then again he certainly wasn't acting like he had told a whole court that their Queen was a whore, was it possible this arrogant, sadistic, man hadn't told anyone? What was he planning if he hadn't? Raven shook her head, refusing to believe that Reaver hadn't told anyone. It just wasn't like him to keep as secret as powerful as that. Little did she know that Reaver was far more complex and psychopathic than she gave him credit for, and his love for games ran deeper than he displayed.

XXX

Reaver watched Raven's inner battle of wills with a strange mix of emotions halfway through the desire to shoot the young woman and watch her bleed and the lust fuelled passion that wanted him to throw her on the bed right that instant and ravish her over and over. It was an oddly conflicting display of emotions that Reaver did not fully understand, nor did he like it. These emotions were not his own to control, and that was something Reaver detested. His body and mind had always been his to control, anyone who had threatened that now lay dead in a hole in the ground, and half of him was screaming to inflict the same punishment on the young queen. But the other half of him, that Reaver had coincidentally ignored up until this point, wouldn't let that happen, fighting back with a passion. Reaver growled silently in frustration, hand unconsciously gripping the pistol in his hands tighter, and the sharp squeak that emitted from Raven's mouth pulling him back from his own inner turmoil.

She stared at him and Reaver got a distinct feeling that he was being judged, "I work at the Brothel because I need some extra cash for the treasury, my real estate holdings only cover so much, and that was the fastest way I knew of to get it. But don't get the wrong idea! I'm not a prostitute, more like a waitress and a dancer. And no-one is allowed to touch me at all; Jacob says it's the whole forbidden fruit thing that keeps the customers coming back. And I get paid extra for looking like the queen ironically,"

Oh so that was it. Reaver smirked at her explanation, excitement building in his chest that his plan would work out after all. He had had the slightest fear that she was doing it just for fun or to spite someone, it was something Sparrow would have done.

"I'll tell you what, my dear, you give me one thing and you can leave, with my undergarments and all," Reaver explained, slowly spinning a web of words that Raven would never realise was a trap until it was too late. Oh foolish, naive girl.

"What?" Raven asked warily, brown eyes all suspicion.

"A kiss,"

XXX

A kiss? He wanted a kiss? He was either thoroughly insane, completely oblivious to the hatred Raven had for him or he was plotting something. She was opting for the later, given his personality. Raven bit her lip as she thought ten thousand possibilities and decisions all racing in her head at the same time. She could tell him no, but then what would happen and how long would she be stuck here. Raven was still painfully aware of the cold weapon prodding her in the stomach. Or she could just give him what he wanted and leave with her prize, no worse for wear. What was a kiss anyway? She may be a maiden but she was no fool to the matters of the heart. Warnings from the numerous handmaidens and her mother had taught her that.

Raven hesitated, strangely nervous as she played with the fabric of her shirt, and asked "Just one kiss?"

Reaver nodded in answer to her question, "If you can stop at that, belle"

Raven's eyes lingered on the elegant line of his lips as she took a deep breath and swallowed her pride. In one swift movement, Raven wrapped her arms around his neck; eyes closed, and pressed her lips to his. She felt the eyelashes she imagined would frame his cheek bones brush against her check, as long as the day old stubble framing his jaw, as he tipped his face to the side to get a better angle, hands roaming up and down her back. She gasped as Reaver nibbled slightly on her lower lip, the movement allowing him access to her mouth. Their tongues danced together and Raven was so lost in what should have been a simply, chaste kiss that was now a passionate make-out session, that she let Reaver led her to the large wooden bed. One of Reaver's hands rested on her hip deliciously, while the other tangled in the chocolate waves spilling down her back. The edge of the bed pressed into the back of Raven's knees as she nearly toppled down onto it with Reaver.

Instead when she felt Reaver's weight press forward, she kicked out, locking her legs behind his and spinning them around. Then she placed one hand on his bare chest and pushed him onto the bed. Raven grinned triumphantly, brandishing the underwear she hadn't let go of in one hand, as she stared down at Reaver. He watched her, his black hair tousled from the fall to the bed, raised up on his elbows with a sly smirk. Raven was undeniably smug that she had gotten one on him. Sparrow had taught her well.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Reaver," Raven said in her most royal, haughty tone, a sudden streak of boldness causing her to wink at him before bolting out of the room. The residents of Millfields that day got an unexpected surprise as their queen danced like a fool along the stone paths, all of them oblivious to the businessman who laughed like a madman inside the comfort of his home. Le jeu ne fait que commencer, Mon Corbeau.

A/N: And the plot thickens dun, dun, dun~! Oh Reaver, you schemer XD. Show some love for Benjamina everybody =D I hate to say it but if I was in the game I'd be like ten times worse than her ^_^. Anyways much love to those who reviewed and favourite or story alerted (you all get cyber hugz) and keep them coming X3, Come one we've got 350 hits and 196 visitors but only 3 reviews! Feed the attention-seeking Authoress haha. Oh if any of you are wondering the title and main inspiration behind this story comes from the song Bulletproof by Kerli (I have the demo version =D). Merry Christmas (or if you don't celebrate Christmas, Happy Holidays~!) and blessings of comfort and joy to all! It's Christmas Eve in Aussie Land, yayz!

French Translations:

Le jeu ne fait que commencer, Mon Corbeau – The game has only just began, My Raven.

Belle – Beautiful

If any of these aren't right (this is highly likely because I'm using Google translator haha) can you guys please tell me so I can fix it?


	4. Dance, Puppet, Dance

"Are you just going to sit there and brood or are you going to help me with this?" A heart-warmingly familiar and heavily accented, albeit a tad annoyed, feminine voice cut through Raven's, well, broodiness. She lifted her head from where it had been resting on the kitchen window, eyes gazing off into the palace gardens unseeingly, and turned to look at her best friend, Rory, staring back at her with one dark eyebrow raised. Silver eyes watched Raven worriedly as she untangled herself from the position she had put herself in, curled up in a space between two large cupboards in the Castle Kitchens, and black curls escaped the neatly pinned bun piled on top of Rory's head as she shook her head in dismay at the distant, depressed mood Raven had woken up in.

Raven stared blankly at the slender wooden broom Rory was holding out to her, blinked once and then answered almost robotically, "I was going to brood, actually,"

Rory sighed in exasperation, thrusting the broom into her young friend's hands and dragging her out of the kitchens, where the other servants had rushed to form a circle to gossip about Raven's latest funk and the fierce scolding they had heard through the thin castle walls late the night before.

Raven had snuck out again, like she wasn't the Queen of Albion and had to sneak around, and had accidentally gotten drunk. And I mean, _very drunk_. She had taken a shot when she arrived at the Brothel to steady her nerves, and when that had tasted like heaven in a glass she had had a few more, then there was that customer who was a little _too_ friendly and had pumped her with ale. That was why she had stumbled into her bedchambers, half-delirious with alcohol, and promptly fell to the floor in a fit of giggles when she saw Walter standing there. Slightly perturbed was an understatement at the waves of fury radiating off her mentor. Her reasoning for the laughter at the time, ingenious as it was, had been his beard was so **bushy**. We all know what happened next and now Raven had a killer hangover, her stomach felt like raw sandpaper, and no-one had yet to laugh at her.

Which meant that Reaver had kept her little secret to himself for reasons not even Avo himself knew. And that was why Raven was in such a foul mood, though her lips still tingled when she thought of those green eyes betraying a whole new emotion that she didn't understand to her.

"It doesn't make sense!" Raven cried for what would have to be the billionth time since she had first stepped outside her chambers and padded down to the kitchens. Rory groaned from her position up ahead in one of the hallways, slim shoulders dropping slightly as she humoured the hero.

"What doesn't, Raven?"

Raven glared at the older woman, dark eyes piercing holes in Rory's sly grin, "You know what,"

And she did, having heard it too many times to count all that morning. Raven was worried, as usual, about what Reaver could possibly be planning. He had nothing gain from keeping her secret, well nothing she knew of at the time, and for every secret he did keep his silence Raven grew sicker and sicker with worry. She had heard enough rumours to have the good sense to be scared and the intelligence not to let it show to anyone but those she trusted with her life. Fear was a weakness after all, and Raven's mother had taught her to never, under any circumstances, show weakness to the aforementioned man. So Raven kept most of the growing apprehension she felt to herself and now her heart was heavy with so many possible complications she didn't really need nor want right now.

"You know, where I'm from, this little thing you've got going on is called affection. Which leads to either dating or angry sex," Rory said with a snicker at the way the younger woman's dark eyes bugged out her skull and her cheeks turned a distinct crimson. Then she dodged a fireball that had seemingly come out of nowhere with such grace that one would think she had been doing it for years. Rory was far too used to Raven's fierce and easily triggered temper after the six years they had been friends, though the fireballs were new, even serving as a sort of mother figure when the hero had been a young girl entering into adolescence with only men to look to for advice.

"Deny it all you want, little Raven!" Rory sang, swiftly dancing out of the way of another fireball that left black scorch marks in the wallpaper, before disappearing around the corner and set to work dusting the library.

Raven entered the room a few moments later, face pulled down into a scowl and mumbling something about rude servants and one of these days I'm going to fire you, but nonetheless followed Rory's example and swept the floor with the broom she had been handed. They worked in silence, Rory grinning to herself as she watched her friend silently switch between fuming anger and quiet contemplation out of the corner of her eyes, Raven's emotions clearly displayed on her noble features like an open book for the entire world to see.

"Where _are_ you from?" Raven asked hesitantly, her insatiable curiosity getting the best of her once again as she peered at her friend from underneath chocolate waves of hair. She had often breached the subject with Rory but always get the same answer:

"A place a long way from here," Rory said simply, eyes turning wistful as she stared out the window into the gardens. Raven wondered over the strangle nasally accent the other girl spoke in, her abrupt references to mysterious things no-one she had ever spoken to knew of, the strange way she talked; so out of place and refreshingly different among the stuffy elaborate speech Raven had been raised with. It was a burning desire within Raven that one day she would find out where all these things came from, but unfortunately this was not the day because it was clear that no matter how much she probed or poked with her silver tongue the other woman wasn't going to get an answer out of the older woman. Raven filed it away into the back of her mind to ask Logan if he knew anything when she next visited him.

"One of these days I'm going to get you to tell me," Raven said firmly, chocolate eyes blazing as Rory let out a hearty laugh. The older woman placed a hand on her back with a wry smile as if to say _I have no doubt you will_, before they both turned back to their jobs. Raven idly wondered why she was even cleaning her castle in the first place.

They must have worked with only the faint scratching of bristles against tiles and books for a good twenty minutes until a sharp bark cut through the silence and a furry body pounced on Raven, knocking her to the desk as she grinned when a rough tongue ran over her cheeks affectionately. Rebel barked happily, trotting over to sit at Rory's feet with the most adorable expression the dog could muster until Rory complied with a groan and rain long fingers through the thick black fur, and Raven watched two of her best friends play with an affectionate grin. That was until a voice she would know anywhere resounded around the room.

"Well, well, well, wonders will never cease. Behold, the Righteous Queen Raven, _cleaning_," Reaver's familiarly annoying drawl rang in the two woman's ears, causing both to look up at the man who now stood in the doorway, one doing so only with great reluctance and a heavy drawn out sigh. Well it had been a good less than twelve hours, Raven thought sulkily before turning to greet the devil himself.

Reaver was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as he regarded the young monarch with bright emerald eyes, taking no effort to hide the plain amusement shining inside the brilliant green. Twin pistol holders were clearly visible against the white fabric of his pants as he crossed his legs, causing Raven's defences to immediately go on high alert. She dropped the broom she had been holding onto the desk behind her, straightening up and crossing her arms over her chest and meeting Reaver's piercing gaze with a withering stare of her own, chocolate depths all fiery determination and challenges. One elegant eyebrow was raised as he chuckled slightly and Raven glared, grasping for a reason why she was cleaning. None she could come up with made any sense. Fortunately she was saved from another dose of mortification when Rory stepped in between the glaring couple, having disentangled herself from the affectionate canine, and sauntered up to Reaver, hips swaying pronouncedly

"I'm sorry, _Master Reaver_, that is entirely my fault. I teased Raven here into helping me," Rory drawled seductively, silver eyes smouldering as she looked up at the tall man from underneath dark lashes. Reaver, being Reaver, immediately redirected his attention to the blatantly flirting female before him, appraising the woman's shapely body with green eyes glazed over in barely disguised lust. Rory smirked, inching a little bit close, while Raven watched the scene with curiosity for her friend's actions and a strange flickering of jealousy springing to life in her chest.

"Ah, such things happen. Now I do believe you have put me in a bit of a tight spot, dear lady," Reaver smirked, appearing to have completely forgotten the young hero in the room who watched the two, completely appalled, as Rory raised one slender eyebrow in questioning as her pink lips formed a seductive o, "You know who I am, well, who doesn't, but I don't believe I've had the _pleasure_ of your acquaintance,"

"My name is Aurora, you may call me Rory," The older woman purred, equally as seductively as the man staring down at her now as he took her hand and placed a light kiss on her knuckles. Raven gagged as she saw the slight shiver go up her friend's spine at the contact.

"Charmed, Rory," Reaver smirked, his hand glove hand still holding Rory's. It was then Raven decided that if she was forced to watch any more of this inane interaction she would surely go insane, or at the very least have nightmares for weeks about Reaver and Rory and that room with its chains and…

Clearing her throat loudly, Raven stepped forward to stand beside her friend, poking her hard in the back with her index finger. Rory immediately jerked backwards with a hiss as pain flared along her spine, glaring at the young monarch who was looking decidedly smug as she turned to look up at Reaver with hands on her hips, effectively wrenching her hand from Reaver's grasp.

"May I help you, Master Reaver? As you can see I'm very busy…dusting," Raven said haughtily, trying to put her best amount of commanding defiance into the tone but even she had to cringe at the last bit. Jasper would have had a royal fit at the mere thought of the precious princess cleaning her own castle; such a thing was unthinkable to the traditional butler. Out of the corner of her eye Raven saw Rory hide her giggle behind a sudden outburst of coughing, an action that earned her another sharp jib in the ribs and earning Raven a cry of outrage from the older woman. Reaver turned to Raven with the same lust-filled eyes that had been trained on Rory only seconds before, which made the hairs on the back of Raven's neck stand on edge.

"Must there always be a reason, Mon Corbeau, would you believe me if I say I am here simply to partake in your sparkling wit and humour?" Reaver drawled, head cocked to the side arrogantly as he made flippant gestures with his hands as he spoke.

Raven didn't even flinch in her determination as she said, "Not a chance,"

Reaver chuckled and detached himself from the doorway, sauntering over to stand beside Raven he took her arm in his, "If you must know, Ma Cherie, I do have something to discuss with you. Perhaps we could take a walk in your divine gardens? That is unless you have more dusting to do."

Raven ground her teeth together in anger at the mocking insinuation in his voice but quickly reminded herself that this could be beneficial to her as well, besides it wouldn't do to have a dead and bloody Reaver on the floor with how much time she spent in the library. As much as the thought amused her.

"Of course, Master Reaver," Raven agreed, the picture perfect image of royal politeness as she extracted her arm from his grasp, "Please go on ahead without me, I must have a quick chat with Ms. Rory here, but I will be out soon,"

Reaver swept both of the woman a gallant bow, eyes lingering somewhat on Rory's plunging neckline, before smirking and strutting off out the door of the library and into the awaiting gardens. Raven poked her tongue out, somewhat childishly, at the devious businessman's retreating figure as Rory let out loud guffaws of laughter from behind the young hero.

"From now on I'm going to call that man Peacock!" Raven exclaimed grandly with an indignant huff, doubling her friend's laughter. She spun to Rory with both her eyebrows raised in question to which the woman had the brains to feign innocence.

"What? He's hot," Rory deadpanned, shrugging her shoulders at Raven's expression of utter shock and confusion. Raven still didn't understand the sordid fascination all these women Reaver managed to bed had with him. He was sadistic, psychopathic, and manipulative…

"And very, very handsome," Rory sang, guessing her friends thoughts.

"My brother's going to kill you out of jealousy one day," Raven stated, straight-faced.

Rory shrugged, grinning dismissively as she said, "Eh, you win some, you lose some, such is life"

XXX

The gloriously sweet scent of roses in a myriad of vibrant colours floated around Raven on the late morning breeze, complimented by the somewhat subtler scents of violet irises and sapphire hydrangeas. Raven inhaled deeply, the distinctly floral aroma tickling her nose and relaxing her tense body. Vivacious blooms of colour greeted her eyes at every glance, broken only by the grey gravel scattered across the ground and the occasional equally dazzling nobleman or woman, and the trickling of the grey stone fountain in the courtyard lent a distinct aura of calm to the otherwise hectic castle. She had always loved the gardens her mother had grown and tended to when they first moved to the castle, often escaping here when she had had a fight with Elliot or Logan or she simply wanted to be alone. Raven had came here less and less often as it became more and more filled with the aristocrats who wanted to get into the Queen's good graces. Exactly the same types of nobles that were now clustering together in small groups to gossip about the Queen and her new walking partner, and, might she add, being extremely unsubtle about it.

Reaver had one arm wrapped possessively around her waist, his palm resting on her stomach, having caught her in the hold when she had refused to take his arm again. Raven cringed as she once again tripped slightly over air in her own nervousness, causing herself to press further into Reaver's side, a strange flare of tingling burning where his hands slid. She saw him smirk out of the corner of her eye as she visibly shivered, twirling his brass cane idly in his spare hand. _He's warm_; Raven thought casually, unconsciously shivering against the chilly early spring wind. It was an odd observation to make, for surely every human being with a beating heart would be warm when it was cold, but nonetheless the young hero couldn't help but notice it was an unusual degree of fondness.

"What do you really want, Reaver?" Raven asked finally as they left the main part of the gardens behind and reached a more secluded area, some of the tension in her shoulders leaving as she was sure that no nobles were listening to her every word. Well, not _entirely_ sure.

The aforementioned man chuckled, smirking as he looked down at the young monarch, placing a hand over his heart in mockery, "You wound me, Ma Cherie,"

She shot him a look that said she didn't believe one word of his feigned innocence, contempt and wariness plain in the dark brown depths of her orbs. Sighing dramatically, Reaver let his eyes smoulder as he admitted to his companion, "All right, my dear, if you must know, I came here to propose a ball to be held here. In your honour of course, Mon Corbeau,"

"Hmm, let me think about it. No." Raven rejected sarcastically, "and stop calling me that, I know what it means,"

Suddenly strong hands gripped her hips pushing her backwards, and then solid stone wall was at her back, a certain devious tycoon's body pressed flushed with hers. Raven's breath caught in her throat as Reaver balanced himself on elbows placed either side of her head, her chest crushed slightly by his, his face only inches from hers. She found her eyes lingering on the curve of his smirking lips, flashes of the passionate kiss she had indulged herself in the previous morning flashing back with surprising ferocity. She wondered if they tasted the same as they did then, her fingers twitching where they lay limply at her sides, would his hair be the same black silk.

"Care to rethink your judgement?" Reaver purred, his hot breath tickling her air. She gulped down the lump of indescribable want forming in her throat, her knees starting to shake slightly as a strange desire pooled into her stomach and spread lower.

But still Raven kept her determination and managed to stutter out, "N-n-no"

"Tut, tut, we'll have to teach you a less in civility then,"

All logical thought left her as strong lips were pressed to hers, both demanding and compliant at the same time, hard and soft, stubborn and coaxing. For a moment she stood limp, unable to do anything, before her body moved on its own, an entity completely separate from her mind which appeared to have taken a vacation. Her arms wrapped around Reaver's neck, dainty fingers running through the thick black hair that was still like silk to the touch, and she gasped when he released her lips and led a march of fire kisses starting at the tip of her jaw all the way down to her jugular, nipping and sucking playfully along the way. Raven couldn't help but let a small moan as one of his hands moved down her back to cup her arse before sliding along her thigh and bringing her leg up around his hips, the thin fabric of her leggings protesting against the movement, while the other trailed painfully slowly up her abdomen to cup one breast through the straining fabric of her shirt. She groaned in desire as he ground their hips together scrumptiously, bucking forward violently as on slender finger tweaked her nipple through the fabric and taking a small pleasure when Reaver let out a soft moan of his own, the sound muffled against the crook of her neck where he was planting hot kisses.

"Lustful little thing aren't you?" Reaver purred huskily slightly out of breath as he captured her lips once again in a heated kiss. One would think that sentence in itself, coming from its owners mouth, would have brought Raven's mind back from its extended holiday to Aurora, but alas that wasn't the case. Instead it was the distinct sound of shoes crunching against gravel that brought her back to her senses with an almighty crash.

"R-r-r-reaver st-oh-op," Raven managed to ground it, albeit a bit shakily, when he finally released her mouth for some much needed air. Her protests were met only with a chuckle, which was a bit more breathless than the usual, and another fierce kiss on her jugular, smirking when he felt her pulse spike erratically under his touch.

"Only if you reconsider my proposal, Ma Petite Renarde," Reaver murmured against her ear, making her arch into him in surprise. Raven squeaked in surprise when her legs finally gave out from under her, grasping on to Reaver's wide shoulders for support, so he was the only thing holding her from flouncing unceremoniously onto the dirt.

"Someone's coming!" She hissed from where her head had fallen on his shoulder. Reaver simply chuckled again. Raven had already known that part of the argument would not work, the man had no modesty whatsoever, but it was a worth a try. Besides the person most likely coming was a noble and it wouldn't be "moral" to have their Queen becoming extremely intimate with the man who had almost singlehandedly brought about the downfall of Bowerstone.

But Raven _really_ didn't want to have a ball at the castle, let along one held by the man who was currently ravishing her neck, she tended to avoid large gatherings of society, a flaw that Logan had fortunately made up for, preferring only to speak to her closest friends and family. On the other hand she didn't know how much longer she could take this, her body was already losing its ability to fight as was her mind when everywhere Reaver touched a feeling of pleasure she had never felt for exploded forth. Fortunately her mind was made up for her when the crunching of gravel became much too close just as Reaver's spare hand inched it way toward the waistband of her pants, fingers dancing expertly over the laces.

"Fine! Okay! You can have your ball!" Raven cried, twisting way with what little humility she could manage to preserve. Her whole body turned as red as the fiery pits of Skorm's realm as Raven turned her back to Reaver, righting her clothes and straightening out her hair as she felt his eyes burning holes of smug content into the back of her neck. Gingerly she pressed a finger to her lips, swollen and bruised as she suspected, before trailing down to her neck where she could see the beginnings of many a red mark starting to form. She cringed inwardly, already trying to think of a cover story for her maids and Jasper. She couldn't very well come out and say, I just made out with _Reaver _and probably would have let him done much more had we not started it in a freaking garden. Balls. Balls. Balls.

"Wonderful, your Majesty! I shall begin preparations at once; the ball will be a week from today." Reaver exclaimed grandly and Raven spun around with some retort dripping with sarcasm and malice when she saw a noble couple passing them with odd looks on their face. She nodded to them, mustering all the composure she had managed to gain, with her best Queenly smile full of fake hope and reassurances that no the country was not going to pieces and no she hadn't just made out with Reaver. _Reaver_. She was going insane. Possibly already was.

The couple passed and Raven let her smile drop, abruptly feeling nothing but tired and old beyond her short eighteen years. She dared a glance at Reaver, who was leaning against his cane, undeniably smug and looking none worse for wear, before promptly fixing him with the fiercest glare she could manage and stalking off towards the castle and her own blissfully private rooms. She really didn't need human interaction right now. Perhaps she would post Rebel at the door as a guard.

Raven didn't get very far before lightly muscled arms pulled her back into the darkness of the large stone statues, she knew under her feet lay the remains of her parents, wrapping around her waist. Warm lips were pressed to her neck, right over the angry red mark that was most assuredly plainly visible now, and a chill rolled down her spine as that chuckle that would haunt both her nightmares and her dreams for a good month rang in her ears.

"Pleasure doing business with you, _Raven_," Reaver murmured mockingly, Raven's body going completely still as if bracing herself for the pistol that would surely follow, but instead the hero of skill merely released the young monarch and strutted away as if she were merely another stick in the mud.

"Bloody damnable Peacock!" Raven screeched after the retreating figure of Reaver, anger seething beneath her skin as she slumped against the stone wall and buried her hide in her knees. She felt like some kind of puppet, danced around in front of a crowd for cheep kicks and sadistic pleasure, while the answers and secret to her freedom were tangled right in front of her. So tantalizingly close but just out of reach and she was blind. Blind and naive and suddenly realising that secrets were far more dangerous then she had first suspected, especially in the hands of someone like Reaver who would use them to make her squirm just for his own amusement. Oh what in Avo's name had she gotten herself into.

XXX

Three days passed. Three days filled with court sessions and more gold lost and extra shifts taken at the Brothel. Three days that were utterly and completely Reaver free. At this point, Raven was taking small blessings as they came.

Well that was until a messenger boy appeared to her one day after her last court session for the day, baring a blood red card embroidered in elaborate gold patterns with a simple message scrawled in elegant handwriting:

_Meet as soon as you get this, Mon Corbeau_

_We have business to discuss_

_P.S. Peacock? Really? A tad childish isn't it?_

_R_

She had considered not going at all, telling herself that he simply wanted to discuss some inane detail about the upcoming ball and that could definitely wait until tomorrow when she wasn't falling asleep while standing. But somehow she had still ended up outside the imposing cream mansion, slamming the wooden doors open and immediately marching up to Reaver's study. A small point of her pointed out that wasn't it a little strange that she knew the way by heart, but she quickly squashed that part when she came upon Reaver standing by the fireplace, swirling a goblet of wine in his fingers thoughtfully.

Dread filled clenched her heart as he turned to look at her, emerald eyes blazing with excitement and something else, something darker that even Raven didn't want to know.

"What do you want?" She demanded, summoning her nerves of steel as she attempted to stare Reaver down despite the fact that he was a good head and a bit taller than her.

Reaver simply took a step toward her and handed her a second goblet he had mysteriously procured before smirking and saying evasively, "I am here to propose a deal,"

"A deal?"

Reaver gestured to one of the waiting plush, velvet, red arm chair with one gloved hand. Dance for the puppet master Raven, dance.

A/N: Jesus, Mary and Russell Brand~! A cliff-hanger! Because I'm mean and I've been up since two in the morning _yesterday_ (it's 8am now, it's amazing what a shitload (shit is a bad word don't say it ^_^) of coke and Maltesers plus Within Temptation and Nickelback can do to keep you awake). Anyhoo, pwoar! Did it get hot in here or was it just Reaver XD? I actually didn't plan this, the plot I had planned ran out last chapter hehe, so the story is kind of writing itself which is why I fear Reaver may be OOC in this chap but maybe I'm just being paranoid =D. My first OC in this chapter too, did you guys like Rory? I'm planning on writing a spin-off story about her later so that's why details might be a bit weird. As always much love to those who reviewed, (7 reviews now! You guys rock Reaver's smelly socks!)story alerted or favourited and keep em coming. Special thanks to wolf2008lllll and Ultra-Violetta for inspiring me to write this chap quicker, you guys deserve very muscular men in oil to serve you grapes all day =3 Hmm, I think I might get me one of those hehehehe.

French Translations:

Mon Corbeau – My Raven

Ma Cherie – My Darling

Ma Petite Renarde – My Little Vixen

Oh and in case you don't get the nickname I decided to call him Peacock because he struts a lot and shows off to the ladies, just like the aforementioned fowl does. My bro actually called him that when we first played fable 2 ^.^.


	5. Masks

A/N: Sorry for the delay, more about that at the bottom. Enjoy~!

"So let me get this straight. You want _me_ to be _your_ personal slave, basically,"

"I would not put it in such vulgar terms but yes that is the gist of it,"

They stared at each other, one with disbelief and the other with cool arrogance. Silence hung between them like the executioner's axe, ready to fall on the head of the traitor at the smallest glance, broken only by the heavy chiming of the wooden grandfather clock standing in a corner as it whittled away the tense minutes. Raven was confused, and extremely wary, but mainly confused.

She had taken her seat as he instructed, the plush cushions instantly gratifying to her weary bones, and simply sat as he explained. With each word that dropped from noble lips, she had grown more and more suspicious until she was half-expecting some bard to jump out from the shadows and play a grand tale of the hero queen who actually believed Reaver's joke. It wouldn't have been the weirdest thing she had witnessed. Well, at least not after that night. The business tycoon sitting across from her casually had proposed something so farfetched that even Raven was confused as to which part of his brain it had formed.

"You're joking, right?" Raven sneered, hands clutching the wooden armrests as she crossed her legs one over the other. Reaver cocked his head to the side, watching her intensely with far too much intelligence then she would have liked.

"I assure you, your majesty, I am completely serious," Reaver deadpanned, emerald eyes a mass of emotions Raven could not figure out, tinted by darkness she did not want to understand. If he was serious, which she doubted he was despite the claims, why was there a double meaning behind everything he said? _Because he's Reaver,_ The little voice inside of Raven mocked as she gritted her teeth.

"Give me one reason why I should believe you?" Raven demanded.

"You cannot afford to _not_ believe me," Reaver stated arrogantly, rising from his chair to fix himself another glass of rich wine. Raven stared at him, eyes wide in shock as her mouth opened and closed uselessly like a floundering fish. Such insolence to show to a queen, who could order his head to roll, but he was correct, was he not? The kingdom was so far in debt that Raven doubted she could save Albion even if she gave her life for them, the expenses just kept piling up and she was helpless to prevent them if she wanted to be the kind, benevolent ruler they had demanded. And there he was, arrogant and conniving, offering her a way out. Her body for Albion. Her heart for the millions that would die if she didn't do something. _No matter the sacrifice, Raven, isn't that what you said?_

"Why would you help me?" Raven whispered, stubborn eyes locked onto the full wine glass sitting untouched on a small coffee table next to her seat. It was no small wonder that with ferocity she was glaring at the crystal goblet it did not shatter under sheer pressure.

"Because, Mon Corbeau, debt is a powerful thing to hold over someone. It leads to favours, and favours from someone high in society, say like the Queen of Albion, are a very useful thing indeed," Reaver mused, swirling the scarlet liquid inside his goblet with an almost trance-like quality. When he turned to look at her, leaning half-heartedly against the hearth, it was with something akin to manic calculation burning behind bright green orbs.

"Can I trust you, with the money?" _And with me_, Raven asked, daring to look directly up at him as delicate hands rung together in her lap nervously. Cool arrogance slid into place over his noble features once again as he took a step toward her, smirking.

"Have I ever given you reason to think otherwise?"

"You betrayed my mother, _twice_, you enslaved children, you tried to kill me and Paige, more than once might I add…shall I go on?" Raven said pointedly, ticking each attack against her off on her fingers as she ploughed on. She cheered inwardly when a muscle in Reaver's jaw unconsciously tightened.

"Point taken, my dear. You know, you're really not helping your cause," Reaver growled flippantly, glaring at her. She smiled angelically, feigning the best innocence she could muster before she quickly fell into a dark lapse.

Eight million gold pieces, enough to fill the treasury and more and any other expenses would be covered if she needed to. That was what he was offering. But until the time that she had payed off her debt, which would take her the rest of her life if not more, she belonged to Reaver, to do with as he pleased. She would be free of the brothel but was it worth it to be bound to Reaver? She thought of her friends and family and what they would think: Logan would tell her to accept; Sparrow would have thrown a fit but done the same, Rory would tell her to follow her heart, Walter would tell her to do what's right, Paige would tell her to adamantly refuse, Ben the same. Raven's hands clenched into fists as she looked at Reaver, who smirked back at her with the arrogance he strutted around with.

"I need a drink!" Raven cried suddenly, reaching her decision, grabbing the goblet beside her and downing its contents in one swift gulp. And just like that, the shackles were tightened around her wrists and the axe fell.

XXX

Four days passed, blissfully mundane in their simplicity, and the Rebel Queen heard nothing from Reaver apart from confirming details for the upcoming ball. She received her invitation expectedly on Thursday morning and too quick for Raven's taste the day of the ball was upon them.

"Too tight!" Raven hissed as her already slim waist was pinched in even further by the strings of the corset she was being forced into. She cursed to the edge of the world for all eternity whoever had thought that _corsets_ would make a good fashion choice.

"Oh suck it up, princess" Rory snapped from behind her good-naturedly, "where I come from we had to walk ten miles in the snow to get clothes like this!"

"Really?" Raven asked, eyes wide with the thought of such horror. If it was up to her she simply wouldn't have gone at all.

"No, we just drove to the mall, but still, I'm sure some people have to do that," Rory admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of her head and accidentally messing up the perfectly styled curls pulled up into an elaborate bun. Raven glared at her friend as she stepped into the simple dress that her other handmaidens held out for her.

"What is a mall?" Raven asked, gasping slightly as the dress was laced shut, crushing her already tight chest even further into her wretched undergarments.

"Uh, it's like a big building with lots of clothing stores in it," Rory explained, pushing the young hero down into the seat at her dresser, after the two handmaidens that flittered around nervously pushed soft black slippers onto her feet.

"Like the market district?" Raven inquired, sinking into her seat as her friends strong fingers pulled back the front of her hair into an intricate braid and styled the rest with a grace Raven envied.

Rory smiled over her shoulder, the Cheshire-cat grin reflected in the gilded mirror sitting before them, "Yea sure, let's go with that,"

They lapsed into silence after that, Raven sitting still and calm as Rory placed blue rose pins into the braid of her hair like an illusion of the crown she usually wore. With a content purr Rory stepped back and helped the young hero to her feet in front of the full length mirror that waited for her next to the dresser.

Raven gasped in delight, for their staring back at her from the shimmering glass was a woman completely changed but recognizably her. Chocolate waves of silky hair fell down her back and to her chest, dark brown eyes highlighted by the crown of blue roses blooming from the elaborate braid. She ran a hand over the black fabric draping over her waist, a long slit of blue silk peeking out a bit off-centre from the rest of the ball gown, framed by an ornate pattern of sapphire butterflies. The skirts of her gown plumed out a bit at the back, creating a tiny trail of fabric when she walked with a swish. Rory placed a slender black and blue raven mask over her eyes, the long nose obscuring the monarch's features.

"It's…amazing," Raven breathed, turning to grin at Rory who stood with her hands on her hips and eyeing her work critically. The knee-length, strapless, grey dress she wore danced as she moved elegantly in strappy heels that Raven had never seen before to straighten out the non-existent creases in the young hero's gown. Raven's two handmaidens stared disapprovingly at the older woman from the corner where they stood, clearly sizing Rory up as a prostitute for the amount of skin she showed.

"Only the best for the Queen, Milady," Rory said grandly, bowing low with a cheeky grin and a wink. Raven scowled at her, turning as a loud knock resounded through the room. One handmaiden shot over to the door and admitted an impeccably dressed, and very handsome, Reaver into the room.

He had forgone his usual sterling white outfit in favour of a white dress shirt, black vest and a tie the same blue as her dress with a blue sash tied around his waist and black dress pants. His usual boots and coat were pulled over the top as well as a black and blue wolf mask perched on the top-half of his face. Raven turned to Rory with an eyebrow raised in question, wondering just how it had come to be that the two matched perfectly, and the aforementioned dressmaker grinned sheepishly.

"I have come to collect the honoured guest," Reaver stated, flouncing forward into the room and taking Raven's arm in his own before turning to her with a smirk, barely visible under the heavy patterns of his mask, "Well, well, well, Mon Corbeau, you scrub up well,"

Raven gritted her teeth at the barely concealed snub, unsure of it was in fact that or an actual compliment, and simply returned his comment with an angelic smile. All the words she could think of would put her on the same disapproval list as Rory, possibly in a higher rank than her in the handmaidens' eyes. It was unseemly for a Queen to swear like a sailor fresh out of the pub after all.

"Let's just get this over with, shall we?" Raven sighed, dreading the night all ready.

XXX

The ball-room was alight with lanterns strung high over head and draped over balconies, casting sparkling, flickering patterns on the array of chiffon and silk dresses swirling majestically on the dance floor while the string quartet set up in a corner played a lively tune that vibrated deep under the tiled floor. Raven sucked in a deep breath through pursed lips as the dizzying atmosphere of the masquerade washed over her, instantly lifting her spirits as she settled into the comfortable mask of elegant Queen among the countless extravagant hidden faces, despite the company whom had decided to attach himself to her side.

"It's simply amazing, your majesty. All that money that appeared out of nowhere, please you must tell us how," A balding man who thought himself Avo's gift to women, and who's name Raven had already forgotten, cried grandly, gesticulating wildly to the small crowd gathered around them as if they were at the opera and he an actor on stage.

Reaver, who had set aside the glass of champagne he had been sipping generously only seconds earlier, cut in with a sly grin that only Raven could possibly know the meaning of, "Yes, I am quite curious myself, do tell,"

_Two can play at that game_, Raven thought cheekily. She smiled her dazzling smile and shifted a fraction closer to Reaver, raising a hand inconspicuously to his back, just close enough that he could feel the very threatening heat of a well-aimed fireball through the fabric of his coat. She almost danced out in triumph when she saw his body stiffen, although it was noticeable only to her.

"A Queen must have her secrets, adds to the mystery," Raven replied pleasantly to the small crowd that had gathered around her in anticipation of getting some good gossip. She almost felt mildly guilty when their faces fell; they were her loyal subject's after all, no matter how obnoxious they were sometimes. But there were some things that they simply didn't need to know.

A moment later, when the small gathering had dispersed and the bald man had trotted off to bore other guests with his oh so impressive knowledge of the royal ballroom's architecture, Reaver spun around on his heel and grasped Raven's wrist in one gloved hand. The fire fizzled out immediately as the young monarch squeaked in surprise at the contact, sudden electricity crackling up her arm.

"Now, now, there's no need for violence," He drawled, refusing to let go of Raven's wrist even when she tugged as hard as she could without attracting suspicion. All that resulted in was an ominous crack sound.

"Oh I can think of a few…" Raven growled, sighing heavily, "Don't you have something else to do?"

Reaver placed one finger to his elegant lips before shaking his head and drawling, "It would not do for a gentlemen such as I, and the host of this fête, to leave the honoured guest alone,"

"I am hardly alone, Master Reaver, there is a room full of people in case you didn't notice," Raven scoffed, smirking as she saw emerald eyes dart around the room behind his mask.

"I don't want to leave my possessions unattended,"

Raven resisted the overwhelming urge to slap Reaver upside the head, again and again until he died a bloody and painful death. And then she would run to his house while he lay dying and retrieve his beloved Dragonstomper and bring it back to the ballroom so he could watch her smash it to itty bitty pieces with his last breath. Oh, that would be _fun._

Was that all he thought of her? Another one of his possessions, existing purely for his amusement, to toy with as he pleased. She was the bloody Queen of Albion for Avo's sake, she could order his head to roll for even looking at her wrong, and she was reduced to a mere object! But of course he thought of her like that because in Reaver's twisted mind, that was all she was.

"Leave me," Raven spat out, sudden waves of nausea twisting her stomach into knots. She hated Reaver for being who he was, and she hated herself for ever thinking that accepting his deal was a good idea. It was only the start and already she was starting to crack. What would happen when she finally did break, and Reaver would have control of all that weakness?

He looked down at her from the dark caverns of his masks eyeholes, emerald eyes carefully wiped emotionless, before bowing and walking over to a group of giggling adolescent girls who had been sneaking peeks at the quietly fighting couple, cheeks stained pink from the excitement of the party. Raven wondered if she had ever been like them, naively obsessed, when she had attended her first party. _Of course she had,_ Raven scoffed to herself.

Raven slumped against the stone wall behind her, letting out a deep breath she didn't realize she had been holding, and closed her eyes to fend off the growing anxiety clawing itself from the pits of her stomach to squeeze her throat close. The kingdom was saved, but now her already person was falling. Raven was losing this battle, and she knew it. When her breathing had settled enough that she was sure she wouldn't hyperventilate, Raven opened her eyes and contented herself with watching the crowd that moved in synchronized grace around the room. Reaver had took to the dance floor with one of the girl's, a young brunette who was staring up at him with pure adoration in hazel eyes, as her friends watched jealously from the sidelines. Raven pitied the girl, knowing that he would take everything she could offer and leave her out in the cold, but stunned herself by finding the starting spark of jealousy flickered around her heart as she watched the two. Raven scowled, more confused than ever at the warring emotions that tormented her existence at every waking moment. One moment she wanted to kill Reaver and the next she wanted to do something that she didn't even want to think about.

"Your Majesty," A new voice spoke from beside Raven and she turned to see the white-haired head of Jasper smiling at her slyly, "I'd like you to meet Prince Lucas, first son of King Henry IV,"

Raven milled the names over in her head, vaguely recalling the name Henry as the ruler of a kingdom not far from Albion, but she had never heard of his sons. Pulling on her royal face she turned to see a young man, only a few years older than her, with mussed blond hair and pretty blue eyes hidden by a plain white half-mask smiling at her nervously. Behind him Walter stood with his arms crossed over his large chest, booted foot tapping impatiently on the tiled floor.

"Pleasure, Lucas," Raven replied civilly, extending her hand for him to kiss. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Jasper smile smugly. Behind her mask, Raven scowled at the blatant setup. Couldn't people stay out of her personal life for one minute?

"The pleasure is all mine, your majesty," Lucas replied a little too eagerly. He seemed pleasant enough, maybe a touch immature, but Raven had no doubt his head would have been filled with the great tales of The Rebel Queen by her ever "helpful" butler.

"Lucas was just telling us about how much he wanted to dance with you tonight, Raven," Jasper said in place for the man who blushed and dropped his head at the statement. Raven opened her mouth into an O, as if to say _Oh really,_ and raised one eyebrow in the Prince's direction.

"U-uh, yes your majesty, if I c-could have the honour," Lucas stuttered, raising one shaky hand out to Raven. Jasper nodded encouragingly at her while Walter simply rolled his eyes. Raven grinned, sending hateful thoughts in Reaver's direction for spiking the jealousy in her heat, as she took his hand and followed Lucas onto the crowded dance floor.

They settled into a steady rhythm, as the quartet in the corner played a gentle waltz, moving backwards and forwards with the grace only twin royal upbringings could produce. Raven happily let Lucas lead, content to making sure she didn't step on his feet from the confines of her skirts, as she studied him. He really wasn't _that_ bad-looking, with chiselled noble features and a certain boyish charm to him that had Raven smiling despite herself. Lucas wore the standard party clothes, black jacket, vest and trousers that hung complimentary on his lean frame, and was only about a few inches taller than Raven. She found herself immediately liking him for some reason that would always escape the young hero.

Suddenly the tempo of the waltz picked up and partners started switching between the crowd. One second she was looking into the blue eyes of Prince Lucas and the next Raven was staring up at Reaver. He placed one hand on the small of her back and led her in the frantic waltz as Raven's mind went numb with surprise. Chocolate eyes strained to try and find Lucas, who had mysteriously disappeared in the ever-moving crowd, when a familiar drawl sounded in her ear.

"You've made a friend, Mon Corbeau?" Reaver asked, more of a statement than an actual question, his breath tickling her ear and the smooth skin of his cheek pressed against hers as they moved together.

"Jealous, Reaver?" She chuckled, determined to win the battle if it wasn't possible to ever win the war.

"Only as jealous as you were about ten minutes ago, my dear," Reaver smirked and Raven's eyes shot open in surprise, a fierce blush staining her cheeks when he pulled back. He had been watching, like she would learn he always was, when she had spiralled into her circle of self pity and loathing at his opinion of her. Raven wondered how he had known she had been jealous as she watched him and that young girl dancing. Not that she was jealous. Of course not. Okay, maybe a teeny tiny bit, but that was it!

They danced in silence for the remainder of the song, Raven refusing to meet his eyes in mortification as she was overly aware of the warm hand pressed against her back and the long, elegant fingers interlaced with her own. When the song ended, and the crowd dispersed with bows and curtsies, Raven made a bee-line for the glass double doors leading out to a balcony.

Cool, summer air wrapped around Raven as she leaned heavily against the balcony, arms bent across the steel bars. She felt more at home out in the open air, never ending and leading to anywhere her imagination could take her, then she did among the people inside who would be her life for the rest of her years. She would probably marry Lucas, or someone like him, and live a simple, mundane life as queen like she had often wondered when she was over. But then why did she crave freedom and adventure, and why was it whenever she thought of the companion who would accompany her on such adventures it was Reaver's face who popped into her mind.

Raven had two masks before her; one was the noble, pure Queen, the other the rebellious, rough adventurer. Someday she would have to make the choice of which mask she would choose to wear for the rest of her life. And the man that came with it. But not now.

Little did she know that that choice was approaching much faster than she was prepared for, and it may not even be her decision to make in the first place.

A/N: YAY, I finally finished it! Ohmigosh this chapter took so long, mainly for a few reasons that I will talk about soon, and after all that I still think it's a bit rushed but meh, maybe that's just me XD. Okay so, if you live in Australia or you follow Australian news you will know that most of Queensland is under water as I write this, including Brisbane City. I live 15 minutes away from Brisbane City. Thankfully I am fine, and my house is fine, but there's been a lot of disruptions with checking on family and friends and going to help out people who need help and working up money to donate (I'm poor XD). Last time I heard there was 17 people dead and still over 60 missing. There are bull sharks swimming down the middle of the street where I went shopping only a week ago. It's fucking scary (fuck is a bad word also, don't use it =D). If you guys want to help by donating you can go here: . and follow the links or if you can't just spread the word. On behalf of all Australian's I would like to say you would be helping so much and thank you if you donated but you don't have to. So that's the main reason this didn't come quicker, and also school goes back in a week (gah!), so I've been getting ready for that. Oh, if I put a story I've been thinking about writing up on Fiction Press (account link on my page), would you guys read it? And I made a formspring, so ask me a question if you want to haha, link also on my page. Oh that felt very youtubeish XD. Love all you guys (16 reviews! You, good sirs and madams, are awesome) and keep on reviewing and being awesome~!

Note to self: Stop writing Authors Notes longer than the actual chapter XD


	6. Drink Up Me Hearties, Yo Ho

"Life sucks,"

"No, hon, men suck. Life is about so-so,"

Raven glared at Rory from where she was sprawled on her bed, belly-down with her head nestled between her arms, a leather-bound book that had been abandoned in the young monarch's glum state lying open at her side. The older woman was perched on the corner of the bed pulling on leather boots, having shed her servants clothing for the day, and preparing for a night out while Raven had decided to become a recluse for the evening and bury herself in the novels her mother had read to her when she was young.

The only problem was that Raven's mind was racing a mile a minute, taunting her with ideas and noises and voices and always at the back of her head the darkness, making it impossible for her to concentrate on anything for more than a few seconds. She hadn't seen hair or hide of Reaver since the ball that had garnered many a gossiping old noblewoman's attention, and every-time her mind turned toward the subject of the devil, always wondering, where, with who, why, she would squash the thought with an iron hand. But, it was to her dismay, always her thoughts would end up at that one place. Raven hated herself for it, and so had chosen to distract herself with stories of great heroes and princes and princesses and pirates and castles with dragons guarding towers.

Raven huffed, turning over on to her back, and burying her head in the soft, cushiony haven that was her pillows, as if trying to squash the foul mood out of her. She wanted so badly to set something on fire, preferably something related to Reaver, but alas she could not.

"Oh now this is just pathetic," Rory sighed, having finished her preparations with the addition of a little of what Rory called lip gloss from the strange clear tube that Raven had found fascinating upon discovery, wrenching away the pillow and staring down at the young hero with a look of sheer mock pity.

"Understatement of the year," Raven spat childishly, wrinkling her nose and crossing her arms over her chest. Rory grinned suddenly, setting the monarchs nerves on high alert, and reached down to grip Raven's hands, pulling her up off the bed. The sudden change in position made Raven's head swim for a moment.

"You're coming out with me," Rory declared, dancing around the room to gather suitable clothing and throwing it back to the hero. Raven balked like a dog upon hearing it was bath-time.

"Not if you were the last person alive," The younger woman protested, shaking her head furiously, but nothing could deter the might of Rory in the middle of a thought, which was about as far as she ever got on a thought like that.

"I, as your friend, cannot in good conscious let you stay at home all night and wallow. Wallowing is for teenage girls who just got dumped by arsehole boyfriends and want to eat a whole cartoon of ice-cream, which we are not, though I would like some ice-cream, now get dressed!" Rory cried, pushing her queen behind the paper screen when her arms were sufficiently full of clothes. Raven had no idea what "ice cream" was, but happened upon the conclusion that there would be no arguing with the older woman, and succumbed to Rory's iron will with a huff and a shake of her head.

"I hate you," Raven growled, plucking at a stray thread on the cuff of the royal blue cut off dress Rory had thrown at her, stepping back around from the screen and glaring at her friend pointedly. Rory grinned, curling her hands into a heart shape, before grabbing the tiny pack she carried around with her and heading out the door.

XXX

The pub was thriving. Industrial's noxious fumes, that Raven had a sneaking suspicion were toxic in some way or at least very bad for you, curled around the bars inhabitants and mixed with the rich stench of ale to create an dizzying drug of an aroma. The usual partakers in the numbing wonder of alcohol where there, drunkards, cutthroats, pirates, thieves and beggars but on that most beautiful evening there was a grand roar of awe as The Queen of Albion and her entourage settled in for the night.

Raven, trying her best not to turn a very unflattering shade of crimson, was seated in one of the corner tables, her head bent and her hands wringing together nervously in her lap. Rory's friends, most of them servants at the castle but there were some she didn't recognize, were already gyrating on the dance floor to a light-hearted song performed by a duo of violin and flute, having been happily intoxicated before entering the shady looking bar, and Rory was off weaselling free shots from the very jolly looking man behind the counter.

To say she was uncomfortable was only the beginning. It wasn't the stares from her fellow pub-goers, Raven had been forced to get used to _that_ from the very moment she had been crowned, nor was it the fact that the bar was practically on top of the old resistance headquarters and it wasn't very far from the brothel either. It wasn't any of these factors. It was the fact that Raven realized how much she didn't belong in this world anymore, the land of late nights and even later mornings were everything went by in a haze of blood and booze.

No, she didn't belong here just as much as she didn't belong in the castle either. Raven wanted for the days when she did belong in places like these, days spent in leisure, laughing around a camp fire with Walter and Ben like they weren't leading a rebellion against the only family she had left, days that were far gone. She longed for those glory days when she was stuffed up in her office in the castle, staring at unflinching figures that were far into the negatives, where she felt like a sitting duck, helpless and just waiting for the Crawler and his dark horde to come destroy everything she held dear.

"Typical Royalty, depressed at a pub," A familiar voice smirked, a shock of blonde hair popping down beside Raven with the clatter of a try full of mugs of ale and a sly grin. Raven found herself beaming, sitting up from her previous slouch, to wrap her arms around the scoundrel soldier turned captain.

"Ben, I thought you were out on patrol!" Raven exclaimed, pulling back to stare at her old companion with a frown.

"I weaselled my way out of that when I heard I could get some _alone_ time with the great Queen Raven," Ben said matter-of-factly, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Raven snorted, rolling her eyes and punching him in the arm lightly.

"Ugh no great Queen here tonight," Raven mumbled, setting her head on the table with a sigh. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ben's eternally optimistic face fall for a split second, but her attention was soon brought to the second tray of drinks set on the table by a very happy Rory, who apparently had gotten the drinks for free, a gift for the Queen.

"A beautiful woman bearing drinks, all my dreams have come true," Ben cried, taking one of the mugs cheerfully and clinking it against Raven's reluctantly taken up ale. The young hero cleared her mind, settling her racing thoughts with the sweet temperance of alcohol. That night, she was no-one, and she was going to enjoy it even if the Gods themselves would stand in her way.

XXX

"I once sailed with a geezer who lost both his arms and part of his eye," A tall, middle-aged man with olive skin and long dreadlocks woven with all sorts of rick rack, said, gesturing lazily with manicured nails painted black.

"What did you call him?" Another man replied, this one who looked like a greying bear with a grizzly beard and fierce expression.

"…Larry," The first replied.

Raven snorted, before cracking up laughing at the two pirates, who had recently become her best friends, antics. Their banter was extremely funny to her drunken mind, and her legs tipped under her as she stood up, stumbling over to where Ben and Rory were laughing loudly, their cheeks tinged red with mead-induced heat.

The young hero plopped down beside her friend, a small pout on her face as the room swam before her eyes, and the already smoky surroundings appearing as if through a dreamlike haze to the monarch with such clarity that she wondered if she had not passed out. Hey, it was those sailors fault for buying her the drinks, and who was she to say no?

"What's –hic- wrong with –hic- you?" Rory asked, giggling loudly at her own words for a second with her head tipped to the side before the silver eyes seemed to focus onto Raven.

The monarch crossed her arms over her chest and sniffed loudly, "I lost Kevin,"

Rory's eyes bugged out in confusion, apparently just as drunk as her younger friend and hiding it a lot better, but it was Ben that saved her from having to form words, "Whose Kevin?"

"My purple unicorn who shits rainbows," Raven deadpanned, staring at her former companion as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He stared right back, electric eyes bearing an expression halfway between astonishment and amusement, before he snickered and they both started to laugh until Raven was forced to press a hand to her ribs lest they rip from her body. Rory, who was still a little confused, decided at that moment that it was probably a good idea if they wrapped up for the night, before the young monarch did anything she would regret in the morning.

"C'mon Majesty, better get the princess back to the tower," Rory declared, getting up from the table with some effort, the palms of her hands pressed against the flat wood to steady herself as the world spiralled for a minute.

"Who's the dragon?" Raven asked, giggling as she followed her friend's example and got up with some help from Ben who was significantly less intoxicated then the two women.

They both thought about it for a minute, staring at each other as if in deep contemplation of life, before they cracked a grin as one and yelled, "Jasper!"

XXX

"Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me!" Raven sang into the chilly night air, grabbing her two companions by the elbow and spinning them around in a circle with her. Once the dizziness that threatened to make her topple to the ground had passed, a sudden burst of energy had set in and following the theme of the night the young hero had begun to sing, much to the hatred of the residents of the market district who were just trying to get a good night's sleep.

"We pilage, we plunder, we rifle and loot," Rory added, dancing around with her young friend, their skirts fluttering charmingly in the midnight breeze that flowed through the square and boots crunching against the cobblestone ground, a bell tolling away the hours far into the distance.

"Drink up me hearties, yo ho!" Raven laughed, spreading her arms like wings. She hadn't felt this free for a very long time, exactly a year to be precise, and was enjoying it before the buzz of alcohol wore off and it was back to the old grind.

Suddenly, a flash of white brought Raven's good mood to a startling a crash as she observed the man, complete with goggles and brass walking stick, walking towards them. The young queen immediately went on the defensive, never a good idea when drunk and barely able to form complete sentences without some sort of slur, as the one and only Reaver stopped in front of the trio. She noticed Ben stiffen beside her, the normally friendly captain oozing an aura of _back off_.

"Enjoying the night air, my queen?" Reaver drawled, taking Raven's hand and pressing it to his lips. The young hero subconsciously shivered at the touch, chocolate eyes narrowing at his apparent familiarity. She was still angry at him, the businessman's complete disregard for her as a human being burning like an unfuelled fire at the back of her head.

"Of course, Master Reaver, it is such a fine night after all," Raven replied coolly, the picture of regality while on the inside she was rejoicing that her words had come out normal, "and what would you be doing out?"

"I was looking for you actually, ma Cherie, I have an _assignment_ for you" Reaver explained, a subtle curve of his thin lips the only give away of his smugness. Raven bristled, fire crackling between her fingertips hidden behind her back, but backed down. She had made this arrangement, her life for the kingdom, and now she had to deal with the consequences.

"Of course," Raven sighed softly stepping away from her companions, who looked between the two with some degree of cautious questioning. Ben, at least, had the sense to know that she knew what she was doing.

"Rory, can you cover for me?" Raven asked, bringing her hands together in front of her as if praying and smiling apologetically at the confused woman. The older woman raised one slender eyebrow in question, before slowly nodding. The young hero mouthed the words, _thank you_, before she fell into step with the devious tycoon who had stalked off down the path to Millfields without a backward glance.

XXX

The giant double doors, carved with all manner of intricacy, slammed shut behind Raven ominously, startling the monarch from her half-sleep for a moment but it was not enough. She was tired, the buzz of adrenaline from earlier wearing off as soon as they had made it to Reaver's Mansion and now she was weary, almost asleep on her feet.

She gazed at Reaver, who stood by the foot of the stairs with an impatient expression plastered over his refine features, with half-lidded eyes, the world already blurring. How funny it would be, Raven thought, if she were to fall asleep in the great Reaver's foyer. The sentiment made her giggle.

Abruptly she felt her body being lifted off the ground, and with a loud squeak wrapped her arms around the closest thing to keep her balance, which just happened to be the aforementioned nobleman's neck. Raven flushed bright red when she realized she had just been put in a piggyback by _Reaver_, her legs secured around his waist and his strong arms supporting her.

"Unhand me," Raven mumbled half-heartedly, her head drooping and before she could process anything apart from the word _tired_ she nestled her face in the furry warmth of the collar on Reaver's coat. She was asleep before they even ascended the stairs.

XXX

Reaver sighed, dropping the bundle of ferocity and soft edges that was Queen Raven of Albion on to the plush red of his bed, watching with an amused smile as she immediately slipped under the covers in her slumbering state and curled into the pillow.

He hadn't planned this when he had set out at about ten o' clock to look for the queen, his boredom fuelled mind having come up with all sorts of plans to torture the young hero who was just so fun to rile up. He had planned to whisk the Queen away for the night and torment her for the evening, so that his mind wouldn't wander to the dark places her tried so hard to keep locked within his pretty little head.

But she had just looked so damn adorable, belting out the lyrics to the song his crew had often sung on long voyages, surprisingly on-key, and then when he had managed to get her to his not so humble abode, half-asleep and so easy to take advantage of.

A side Reaver hadn't known existed had broken through his so carefully crafted mask at her vulnerability. He hated her for bringing out the side he worked so hard to bury, but oh how he loved her for that same ability too. Reaver was a creature of contradictions, so much deadliness hidden behind such beauty, raw psychopathic aggression behind meticulous manners and a tongue as sharp as knives. He loved it, there was always something new to discover that he didn't know, always a new boundary to be pushed and tested. But over time he had come to notice that there weren't as many new facets to discover as he had thought, and lately he had been growing bored more frequently than before.

Growling softly to the eerie stillness of his home, he removed his coat and top hat, followed by his shirt and boots, dumping them on the red velvet chair nearby before slipping into the covers beside the young monarch. Reaver stared at her for a few seconds, so tranquil and beautiful in her sleep, chocolate curls spilled around her head like a halo and rosebud lips, so expressive when she was awake, perfect when not turned down into a frown.

Propping himself up on his elbow, not realizing what he was doing, he reached out one hand to brush away the stray curl that had fallen over her peach cheeks. To his immense surprise, Raven leaned into his touch, her silky skin flush against his own as she wriggled backwards subconsciously, her back lying against his chest.

Reaver became perfectly still for what felt like an eternity, waiting for the young hero to wake up or shoot fire at him or something, but she did not stir, her breathing even and steady in deep slumber. Slowly he found himself smiling softly, watching her eyelids flutter as she dreamt, and wrapped one arm around her waist possessively. In the morning, he was sure to get it in one way or another, most likely very painfully, but for now he would simply enjoy her feminine warmth and blatant curves pressed against him.

Absently Reaver remembered wondering who or what she dreamt of as he too fell into slumber.

A/N: Who else is excited for the next chapter? Hello my internet friends~! Remember me? I'm really, really, really sorry for the delay, but school has been piling up (Damn thee educational system for making me a senior this year!) and I've been out of action for two weeks with the flu (Jordan, I'm blaming you XD). That being said, I hoped you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it and hopefully the next one will come a bit quicker~! Oh, and the first person to name the Pirates of the Caribbean references in this chapter gets the honour of naming an upcoming OC, I'll PM you the details. Please Read, Review, Comment, Follow, it makes me happy in ma pants =D (eww, dirty XP).


	7. But A Pawn

The great, sweet, diplomatic Queen of Albion woke to birds singing happy tunes from stretching tree branches, rain tapping out an epic tale of ages past on the roof, silk sheets pulled up to her chin…and a strong arm wrapped around her waist, the unfamiliar scent of smoke and expensive cologne wrapping around her like a blanket of warning. Raven's eyes snapped open, her hands instinctively reaching out for the pistol that usually lay under her bed, only to grasp blank air. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as that fact registered, the sharp tug second only to the throbbing headache that bloomed behind her eyes. Fear gripped her throat like an icy hand, her hands clawed the silk sheets, now revealed to be red than her customary royal blue, as if by doing so she could find some way to figure out where she was and why the bloody hell she was there in the first place.

Raven was severely hung-over, in somebody else's bed, with no recollection of the night before.

Balls.

Soft rustling brought the young queens attention out of her panic attack if only for a second, as her mysterious sleeping companion readjusted himself, in the process pulling Raven onto a hard chest. She bit back her squeak of surprise, biting down so hard on her lip that she tasted blood. The young hero gasped in pure disbelief and shock, chocolate eyes wide with confusion, as she propped herself up on her elbows to stare down at the man who was so bold and arrogant as to trick her into his bed when she had been vulnerable, because surely she had not gone willingly, no matter how ensconced she was with mead she would never allow this willingly. Raven knew herself better than anyone, well at least she thought she did, but as she continued to stare down at his elegant features dread and niggling doubt struck itself into the pit of her stomach.

_He's so beautiful,_ Raven thought absently, her right hand coming up to stroke his high cheekbones, fingers running along the tips of thick black eyelashes, tracing the outline of his thin lips. _Like a swan, graceful and elegant but will fight to the death for what he thinks is his._

The last thought struck her as decidedly bitter, for was she not his possession now, a plaything to use and throw away when he grew bored of her? The leash was growing ever-tighter, just waiting for the day it would choke her.

"It is rude to stare, my little Raven," Reaver smirked, emerald eyes intense as they watched her thoughts take a rather dark turn. She jumped in surprise, going to whip her hand back when his own caught hers and pressed it to soft lips. Raven blushed, glancing away as her hand was returned to her, oblivious to the way his gaze darkened at the action, before the anger she had felt before when discovering exactly who her bed partner was came back.

"And it is rude to trick a lady, _Peacock_," Raven said icily, extracting herself from Reaver's arms and scooting the furthest away from him on the bed as she could. He laughed loudly, the rich sound somehow haunting to the young queen's ears and an involuntary shiver rolled down her spine. There was something about the devious tycoon that unsettled the young queen, some forgotten instinct deep in her gut that screamed engage at your own risk.

"Tricks she proclaims, as if I am some lowly lord. Do you take me for a trickster, dear lady?" Reaver asked between cackles, emerald eyes glazed over as he threw his head back into the pillows. Raven didn't know whether to push him for the reason for his mood or run away in fear, what she did know about his character was not promising for the former.

"I take you for a trigger-happy arse of a man, dearest Reaver, and yes I do believe you would stoop to trickery to get me into bed," Raven proclaimed, bulldozing through the things she had been dying to say since the first time Reaver had stepped into her courtroom with that devilish smirk and heart full of blackness, before the stupidity she seemed to fall into so frequently caught up with her. She expected him to cut her to shreds with his words like knives, or at least reach for the gun she knew was never far from his reach. She didn't expect him to burst into another round of chilling laughter, which the business tycoon did with a great gusto.

"I prefer the term manipulation, ma Cherie, it sounds classier," Reaver drawled, idly twisting a piece of curling ink hair around his finger before he turned to look at her. He did not even deny it; the man was truly without shame! Raven screwed up her face in disgust, wishing for the ground to open up and swallow her whole if only she did not have to look upon his face.

Reaver, however, had different plans. He reached for her with such lightning quick speed Raven barely had time to react, pulling her over to him before pushing her down with the weight of his body as he shifted in the silk sheets to straddle her hips. Raven squeaked in surprise, her whole body flushing an unflattering shade of scarlet and her heart pounding painfully against her ribs, when Reaver's head moved to nuzzle the sensitive skin of her collarbone, pressing barely-there kisses to the back of her ear, along her jaw, all the way to the corner of her lips. Raven's mind went blank as she squirmed, a strange tingling in her lower body exploding through her veins as finally his lips met hers, her heart fluttering with an emotion that could only be described as halfway through disgust and yearning with just a pinch of desire.

"Trust me, my Raven, if you had spent the night with me, you would never forget it," Reaver drawled arrogantly, starting work on the other side of the young hero's face with his oh so skilful mouth as his hands stroked her squirming hips. In any other place or time Raven would have found his words comical, such plain confidence with no hint of humility whatsoever, but as it was, with her cheeks burning hotter by the moment and her head swirling with his heady scent, she simply wanted to be back at home curled up in her own bed.

"Get off me," She growled, her cheeks flushing even brighter at the slightly breathless way her words come out. Raven knew he had caught it to when she felt him smirk against the pale skin of her neck.

"No," Reaver stated obstinately. Raven hissed, reaching up to push her shaking hands against his chest but he didn't budge an inch and once again she was reminded of just how much bigger and taller he was, not to mention he was probably stronger despite her Hero blood amplified skills. She hadn't bothered much with a sword on her campaign, finding a bullet to the head much more effective than any blade, and she was hopeless at them anyway.

"I am your queen!" She snapped, her voice high and squeaky. This time he did pull away, and for a split second Raven hoped he might leave her alone, but instead he simply settled back on his haunches looking down at her with forest green eyes dark with desire, one slender ink eyebrow raised in mock surprise. She braced herself for the biting comment coming her way.

"Really? When did this happen? Why, I was under the impression that _I _was queen!" Reaver announced with all the sharp sarcasm he was renowned for, smirking at her so smugly that she was forced to throw her hands over her face to escape from the sheer force of his unbending arrogance. Raven didn't have it in her to clarify that _technically_, under all the titles and pomp, he _was_ queen. She bowed to his whim, and could say nothing against it because she needed his money. The situation sickened her so badly she could have cried as she lay there in the bed of a man who represented everything she hated most, her hands curled over her face to hide from pure humiliation once again. Oh when would someone just slit her throat and end this mess of a life she had created for herself, to end this bed of agony she found herself slipping into.

After a few silent moments Raven felt him shift off of her, heard the soft sigh of the silk sheets as the business tycoon settled next to her, but still she didn't move, looking for all the world like a corpse if it weren't for the soft rise and fall of her chest that even now she had to concentrate on lest it stop altogether. She wanted to ask if she could go home know, but the last shred of the dignity she held so close wouldn't let her. So she waited, and waited, focusing on the thin scraps of light that broke through the cracks in her fingers, as she waited for him to speak.

Finally Reaver did, "Play a game with me, ma Cherie,"

Then she did move, forcing herself up to sit with her legs crossed on the bed, chocolate eyes narrowing on him on suspicion. Reaver never looked at her, his arms crossed behind his head as he stared up at the rich crimson canopy, emerald eyes dark with a mix of emotions, none of which she understood, but he answered her silent question anyway.

"A board game, nothing less, trust me dear Raven,"

"I will never trust you," She scoffed, letting some of her black mood escape into her words. She saw a wry grin stretch his lips for a fraction of a second before he turned to look at her, expression arrogant.

"Then indulge me,"

"I don't think that the Great Reaver needs anymore indulgences," Raven bit out, but she got up off the bed anyway, straightening out the tunic and leggings she had been wearing the night before and patting out any creases she could before heading for the drawing room. A tiny voice whispered in the back of her mind that wasn't it odd she knew her way around his house, but Raven squashed that voice as she squashed the turmoil of feelings in her heart, forcing them back to their little boxes to be dealt with later.

As she disappeared through the doorway, she heard a smirking voice call out in astonishment.

"Did you- Did the Great Queen Raven just crack a joke? Somebody call the historians, this is a momentous day!"

XXX

And that was how Raven found herself in the gold and crimson drawing room of the one and only Reaver, a fire crackling next to them pleasantly and licking at her toes, a chess board set out between them and a plush red velvet chair cushioning the aching muscles in her back perfectly. She would have purred in contentment if it weren't for her company, who was now staring at her, waiting to pounce when she made her move, like a very pretty cat.

The rules of their game were simple, a standard chess game with a little twist. Every time one of them took a piece of the opposite members team they got to ask a question, and the questioned had to answer truthfully. The winner of the game got to ask for one thing that the loser had to comply with despite any protests they may have.

The last condition left a very bad feeling in Raven's stomach but she had persevered through. Things were going well so far, she had won two rounds and had learned that yes Reaver had fought with her mother against the evil Lord Lucien and his army of floating triangles that shot lasers and yes he did indeed try to betray her…_twice. _Raven took more than a little satisfaction in the fact that her mother had gotten his first ship blown up in the process of his betrayal.

"It is your turn," Reaver purred, his chin balanced on one black gloved hand as he stared down at her. Raven glared at him icily, moving a slender hand forward to stroke a pawn lovingly between two pale fingers before sliding the piece forward a space. Quick as a viper he moved his piece, and plucked her precious pawn from the board.

He rolled the cream piece in his fingers as he smirked at her, emerald eyes flashing with challenge, "Well, look at that,"

"Cheat," Raven murmured, her noble features turned downward into a frown as she tried to figure out where she had gone wrong. She was dreading what question his broken mind would come up with.

"The only way to win is to cheat, ma Cherie," Reaver chuckled, "So tell me, are you as virginal as you claim, sweet Raven,"

She didn't flush this time but bit down on her lip as her heart dropped in an instant into the pit of her stomach. She knew he would ask something like this, she considered lying but the way those green eyes were smirking at her triumphantly now seemed to say that he already knew the answer. Soft brown eyes sprang into her vision, begging her to do the right thing but at the same time pleading to be spared, a single whispered _I love you_ and Logan…always Logan, with his heart shrouded in ice, calling the command in a voice like nails on a chalkboard. Any happy memories the young hero had of the night leading up to that cruel, life-changing event were tainted by that single pivotal moment in her life.

"No," She said softly, staring down at her hands curled into fists in her lap, "There was…Elliot,"

Reaver watched her silently, expression guarded but his eyes were calculating, "Ah yes, the boy who trailed you like a lost puppy with that adoring expression, quite pathetic really,"

Raven bristled, the fury she tried so hard to keep it bay flowing through her veins at the thought of he lost love's name being smeared through the dirt, "He was not pathetic! He loved me, wanted to protect me from the world, he wanted to be by my side forever. Have you never been in love, Reaver?"

"Have you?" He asked critically, ever-observant mind zeroing in on the gap in her words. Raven bit her lip harder, ignoring the salty taste of blood against her tongue. A lump of emotion formed in her throat, and she found she could not talk. The young hero knew the exact answer to that question for she had asked it of herself every night after that day, tormenting herself with what if's and words she never said. Had she loved Elliot? No, but they had been friends since forever and his love had been so pure that she hadn't had it in herself to reject him. And now he was dead, because she had led him on, because she was the one too pathetic for words. That was why his visage haunted her dreams and her thoughts, that was why she couldn't let him go.

"That's more than one question," Raven said finally, shakily leaning forward in the chair she had shrunken into without noticing to move one more piece. Before she had even made her move, he had already picked her piece up from the board and replaced with his own midnight black one. The young monarch didn't have time to think as he pushed her.

"Tell me more of this Elliot,"

Raven took a deep breath, her mind stumbling on the fact that she had been played by the devious devil, before clenching her eyes shut and ploughing through the tragic tale in a jumble of words, "It was two weeks before…before his death. We had a ball at the castle, Walter's idea at a last ditch effort to convince the nobles to follow Logan's new rule. We were both young, and stupid, and drunk on the sweet apple wines of some foreign country far to the north, and thought we were untouchable. We slipped out of the main hall when Logan was distracted by something, thinking he wouldn't notice my absence, and fumbled our way up to my room. I don't think I need to tell you what happened next, just that it was awkward and tried all my patience," Raven paused, a giggle escaping her lips at the memory. By the look on Reaver's face, she deduced she was right in her assumption, "It suffices to say that Logan _did _notice I was gone, and when he found us, naked and giggling like schoolchildren…I've never seen such a look of rage on anybody's face, let alone Logan, I-I thought he was going to kill us both then and there consequences be damned. But he was completely silent, just picked Elliot up by the scruff of his neck and threw him out the door. When he turned to me, I knew that I had disappointed him for the last time; his eyes were completely dead, like he had just turned everything he ever felt for me off. I had never been so sick with myself."

Her thoughts turned bitter, the words she would never admit hanging between them like an axe waiting to drop on the head of the condemned. _I guess he did kill us in the end_. Raven stared down at the tiled floor, refusing to acknowledge the tears that dripped onto her hands, refusing to meet the green eyes she felt trained on her. She felt naked after telling him her story, all her carefully crafted armour stripped away in one burst of emotions. It was not a feeling she liked, being so vulnerable in front of the one person she knew could and would use it to his advantage, but she hadn't been able to stop herself after the first word had slipped past her locked lips. Maybe her heart of steel had more cracks in it than she had imagined, or cared to admit, but then why was it that they only surfaced when she was in Reaver's company?

Raven jumped up from her seat suddenly, her bones and heart wearier than they had ever felt before, and slammed the two chess pieces she had cradled in her hands down on the table, still unable to meet his eyes. A cloud of grief hung over her, suffocating her with the sheer force of its misery that invaded her every sense. She couldn't stand to be in this room anymore, to be so weak when she had thought herself so strong, carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. And she blamed it on Reaver, this compulsion to voice her innermost thoughts, this shadow of doubt he gave her, this had to be one of his tricks, something to further his own power and influence, perhaps he really did want to be king? And wouldn't it be the way to become one, the Queen want mad from the rocky path she had chosen and the Great Reaver stepped in to save Albion. Raven sneered at the thought.

"I need to go," Raven stated, sweeping out of the room in a flurry of rustling fabric and the hollow sound of her boots echoing off the tiles.

Reaver watched her go with silent austerity, before standing himself and fetching himself a fine wine glass from the cabinet behind his chair. He poured a vintage red into the glass, staring at the swirling liquid as it curled around itself playfully, before bringing it to his lips. It tasted like aged grapes, and some other fruits he couldn't remember the names…and regret. Without warning he let the glass fall from his fingertips, the fine material smashing at his feet with a loud clatter and the liquid splashing into the fireplace to blaze a brilliant crimson. Reaver ran his hands through his hair, stained with red, and asked himself: _How was he going to keep his promise like this?_

XXX

The rain was cold and biting by the time Raven got to Bowerstone Cemetery, she was soaked from head to toe and her teeth chattered loudly in her skull, but she didn't care. She had brought herself here for solace, unable to face the questioning looks that would no doubt be waiting for her at the castle, and had found herself in the middle of a torrential downpour, both from the weather and from her own traitorous emotions.

Her skin was covered in mud and her own tears as she sunk to her knees in front of the one grave that she had hoped to never see again. Lightning flashed above her, and thunder rung in her ears as the rain mixed with her own tears. Slowly, hesitantly, she reached forward to run her fingers along the faded inscription, the bouquet of red lily's sitting at the headstones edge brushed against her knees as she did so.

_Here lies Sparrow, Hero of Albion and Faithful Queen,_

_Beloved Wife, Dearly Missed Mother and Eternal Sister._

"I don't know what to do, mother," Raven whispered to the heavens, grasping for something she couldn't understand, her hands curled into fists in the mud. She could've gone to her father's grave, or even Elliot's, but she didn't need the comfort of a friend or the love of a father. She needed her mother to lay her down on her lap and stroke her hair soothingly while she whispered stories of great heroes and woman who never had any grievances into her ear. She needed her mother, in all her infinite wisdom, to tell her what to do.

But her mother was gone, as was her father, and Elliot…even Logan was gone, for all the crimes he had committed in the name of protection he was still her beloved brother and her own blood, but he was far out her reach now. Even her companions from her rebellion had moved onto different and greater things, no longer trailing behind the little girl in her mother's armour. Raven was all alone in this world.

She was but a pawn in the game of life, a tool for someone far greater than her to move and manipulate on an invisible chessboard. But why was it she felt like she was slowly moving backwards rather than forward, why was it that she, the Rebel Queen, was allowing herself to be pulled and prodded like the pawn she played. She was a Queen; she held the fates of thousands of lives in the palm of her hand, she should be able to control her own.

"I know what to do," She said this time, realization dawning upon her like the sun that decided to peak through the clouds, then again. She stood, confident, calm, with a passion in her eyes and a plan in her heart.

If Raven closed her eyes and listened closely she swore she could feel her mother's arms around her again and her voice whispering into her ear, as soft as the wind and just as noticeable. The young hero smiled, a genuine smile, and whispered a soft thank you to the murmur in the breeze before turning around to being the long trek back to the castle.

A/N: Rushed chapter is rushed! I know, I know, this chapter took way too long and is way too short but hey better late than never, right? Forgive me? Long story short: Writer's Block and Fickle Muses suck, but Dragon Age 2 and A Song of Ice and Fire are epic! Hehehehe, damn my obsessions ^.^. Anyways, a big lot of thanks and hugs to all those that reviewed, added to watch list or favourited, I love you guys a lot and know that those things keep me going when I want to quit so please keep doing them =D. Also, A huge congratulations to Gerkyhen for winning my little competition, and I hope you like Desiree when she comes into the story~!


	8. Fire with Fire

"Your Majesty, can you believe this?"

No, she really couldn't. Raven stood, in the green velvet decadence of the royal treasury, her mouth falling open in a very unladylike gesture but she didn't care. Her expression was an awkward mixture of shock and disbelief, as if she couldn't quite believe the impossibility that lay before her eyes. For where once the treasury had stood barren and aching, the shadow of doom and bloody death hanging over them all, there now stood a verifiable mountain of glorious, glittering gold stretching so high that it brushed the domed ceiling. Beside the young monarch her two faithful companions looked on with the same expression she wore, Jasper having been the one who exclaimed and Walter looking like a little boy who had just been handed his weight in candy.

Raven had the absurd urge to jump into the colossal mass of gold and roll around in it like Rebel was so fond of doing to any mud he could find. Maybe she would do that when everyone else was asleep though, just in case…

"Wha-Whe-Who-," She stuttered instead, her mouth disconnected from her mouth by the pure shock of the moment. Taking a deep breath, the young hero tried again, "_How?_"

Raven didn't know who she was asking the question of, didn't particularly care either, but she was glad when it was Jasper who answered, not the lurking shadow in the corner of the room she refused to acknowledge just yet.

"I'm not quite sure, it was already here when I came to open the treasury doors for the maids, ah here it is-" Jasper explained, producing a pair of tiny reading glasses from his coat pocket and sliding them up his nose as he stepped forward to read from the record book, "7 million gold, received around late last night, donator anonymous."

"_Anonymous…" _Raven hissed, bordering on the edges of hysteria, wondering if her staff was made up of complete fools because surely someone would have thought to at least get the name of the person who had so graciously given them _7 million gold _and effectively saved the kingdom from imminent destruction. But thinking would have required someone having a brain bigger than a peanut wouldn't it? Oh dear, she was going to have a panic attack at this rate.

"Funny how that works," Came the drawling comment from the back corner of the treasury and Rave turned, begrudgingly, to acknowledge Reaver as he leaned cross-legged against the wall and idly inspected his pristine white gloves for marks. She couldn't see his face underneath the shadow of his top hat but the young monarch could imagine with startling clarity the smug smirk and leering emerald eyes that were no doubt fixed on her at that moment. A trickling of dread pooled into Raven's stomach as the entirety of the situation hit her like a stone wall, all shock she had held before giving way to horror, cold, terrifying horror that slammed against the protection of her heart with all the force it could muster.

"Yes, quite," Walter remarked, half-aware, having joined Jasper at the lectern and was now frowning down at the pages of the record book as if by doing so he could glean some piece of information the others could not see, stroking his grizzly grey beard in thought.

Raven caught Reaver's eyes then, the noose around her neck tightening until she could just barely breathe, forest green against sultry brown as all the words that would go unsaid stretched before them like an ocean of regret and misery waiting to snap her up if she made one wrong move, took one wrong step. She was his now, the glinting of gold out of the corner of her eye one more chain shackled to her wrists, till death do them part, whether she liked it or not. It was rather romantic wasn't it?

Nobody knew but them the deal she had made when the clock had struck midnight and she had signed away her life by candlelight. They didn't know that at night, when all was still, that the tears would fall unbidden from weary eyes as she envisioned the aching misery of eternity stretching out before her with no end in sight and she had revered the pistol in her hands like one would revere a God. They didn't know that for all the brave fronts she put up she would gladly hand over the kingdom to the next person that offered to take it, but she was too prideful to even consider doing so and pride always goeth before the fall. How very far she had climbed on vines that broke like time around her, and how very far the bottom was below for her. She couldn't fall, just like she couldn't fail when she had led her little rebellion.

There may be no peaceful existence for the Rebel Queen, only words like knives and emerald eyes, but her trials had made her the person she was today, strong and kind and if the world was crashing down around her then she would be the one thing that would not break. She could do this.

For Albion, she could do this.

And for herself, she could do this.

XXX

"Any other challengers?" Raven called to the group of soldiers assembled before her, panting lightly as she wiped a thin layer of sweat from her brow and blew the remnants of smoke from the barrel of her pistol. The sun was beating down on the small congregation, gathered in the back gardens of the castle around the training ground, and the intoxicating scent of roses and marigolds was in the air. The young queen had decided to work out her frustrations with an impromptu tournament, her fighting skills were getting rusty anyway and Raven wanted the strain of muscles and the delicious pain to distract her from the weight on her shoulders. It was a fine day, the beginnings of summer a welcome relief to the endless days of snow and rain that had the entirety of Albion in a rather dour mood, and the young hero couldn't bear to stay inside any longer.

The men before her glanced at each other wearily; apparently finally picking up that their Queen was not herself that fine afternoon, as if willing the other to decline the offer. They were all panting and pink-skinned, having discarded their shirts long ago, drenched with sweat and Raven knew that somewhere in the castle Rory had her nose pressed to the glass and was looking on admiringly but that wasn't the point. She needed to blow off steam, urgently, and so far none of the soldiers had been able to even keep up with her. Raven was beginning to get annoyed.

Thankfully the Guard Captain spoke up for the boys, having joined the little group some time ago after investigating the sudden disappearance of all his men, before any of them could brown their trousers at the mere thought of having to speak to their monarch, " 'm sorry, Your Majesty, but these lads best be getting back to patrolling."

Raven simply nodded in ascent, suddenly too weary to care as the adrenaline of the moment wore off, and feeling rather foolish at not having realized that fact before. She also felt the tiniest bit guilty that she had scared the soldiers, how could she expect these men to die for a Queen they were afraid of?

_They don't have to die now do they?_ The thought was decidedly bitter.

But as the group cleared out, albeit almost hesitantly might she add, there was one who stayed, watching the spectacle with an odd sense of amusement. Raven sighed, turning to face Reaver who was sitting on the stone fence with one leg crossed over the other and his hands folded over the top of the top hat in his lap.

"Bravo, my dear, I have seen grown men quiver quite so much before. There is nothing like a bit of fear and doom with your afternoon, I say," He applauded, clapping his hands together slowly, deliberately and causing that one nerve of annoyance reserved in her heart just for him to flare angrily.

"Still here I see," She muttered, rolling her shoulders and crossing her arms over her chest, "What do you want?"

Reaver stood up, brushing non-existent flecks of dirt from his clothes and if Raven didn't know any better she would have pinned him as being nervous but that was preposterous because it was _Reaver_, and declared, "I will be your opponent, my dear, I find myself with nothing better to do anyway,"

Raven was about to protest, because nothing in the entire world could ever force her to voluntarily engage in anything with Reaver, but then she remembered, with a heavy heart, that she had forced herself into the very same thing she swore she wouldn't. And what did it matter, she was stuck with him until she died (there was no way she could ever pay off her debt), she may as well make it at least tolerable and she wasn't helping anyone by being rude and ignoring him at every corner. The young queen was not the type of person who would ignore her problems and hoped they go away; she was _way _too stubborn for that.

So instead the young hero slumped in defeat as her silent war was won, and gestured toward the firing range with one lazy hand, "Fine, but no cheating,"

Reaver chuckled, brushing past her, and stated, "It is not a game if no-one cheats,"

She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at his back when he wasn't looking and felt supremely triumphant when she sauntered after him all cool and calm and acting like she wasn't the tiniest bit childish. She didn't see the soft smirk that stretched his thin lips.

XXX 

"That aim is horrible, mon Corbeau, who taught you too shoot?" Reaver scoffed from his perch behind Raven. The young queen's ears were ringing, what seemed like hours of gunshot cracks rattling her skull, and she tasted smoke and gunpowder every time she inhaled. She couldn't quite remember the last time that she had felt so drained, any other sane person would have sworn off any form of combat whatsoever after what she had gone through, but she had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with hollow-men and Mourningwood Fort and silly conversations about moustache-twirling with Ben. Raven had never felt as alive as she did when there was a gun in her hands and the roar of will in her veins.

Still there was nothing like "constructive criticism" from the one and only deviant to bring a girl's mood down.

Raven glared at him over her shoulder, the malicious part of her taking great pleasure in what she said next, "You did."

"Blasphemy!" He cried bringing a hand up to cover his wounded heart, scandalised, looking for all the word that she had just announced that she was going to become a nun and live a life of chastity. Raven couldn't help but snort in amusement, the expression on his face worth all her pride and then some.

"You did," She repeated, spinning around to face him, "When I was a little girl. I picked the rest up on my own,"

The young hero allowed herself an indulgent half-smile as remembrance and shock flickered in emerald eyes as her words sank in. Raven was remembering a little girl with red cheeks and puffy eyes hiding in the private gardens reserved for only the Queen and her children, crying, because Logan wouldn't let her play with the toy gun he had gotten for his name-day, and Reaver who had discovered her, much to the annoyance of her five-year-old brain who was firm in her belief that secret places were meant to stay _secret_, and in a fit of she-didn't-know-what had patted her on the head and let her hold his precious Dragonstomper, teaching her how all the components worked and the proper stance for firing. Her mother had been most amused, and understandably sceptical, when she had burst through the throne room doors and told her all about her new skill.

Raven suddenly find herself longing and wishing that little girl still lived, that she hadn't grown up into what she was today, but that girl was trapped in the cage of time and existed only in the realm of memories and dreams.

The young queen was just turning back to the shooting rage, a rather ragged and sad-looking straw doll waiting for her at the opposite end, when strong, white clad arms appeared on either side of her and closed around the grip of her gun, overlapping her own hands and forcing her into a decent position.

"Then allow me to correct your mistakes, ma Cherie," Reaver purred into her ear, tickling the fine hairs on her neck, and Raven couldn't help the way her breath hitched and her body stiffened against his. But with startling trepidation the young hero realized that her body's reactions were not because she was afraid of him like she had thought, because if she was afraid of him like any sane person would be then why would that tingling in her lower stomach bloom again when she noticed that his hands were so much bigger than hers and so _warm_.

_I'm not afraid of him? _She mused in her head as his finger closed over hers and forced her to fire a shot, the bullet causing the straw dolls head to rip off with alarming accuracy, _when did that happen?_

The Rebel Queen had never claimed to be anything close to sane, and now that was becoming more apparent by the second because, just maybe, she _did_ like Reaver the teeniest tiniest bit. He was still an arse, and the most heartless person she had ever met, not to mention psychotic, but he was a curious thing and the mysteries of the world had always intrigued Raven. Plus, he was always fun to annoy. But still an arse. And _way_ too trigger-happy.

"One would think that suddenly acquiring a kingdoms worth of gold would be cause for celebration, no?" Reaver commented as half an hour passed in silence and Raven was silently wondering if her head injuries had not been as bad as they thought, "Maybe even just an orgy? I'm sure this poor fellow would appreciate a break,"

Raven choked on her saliva at his comment, blanching violently and coughing up what seemed like the entire contents of her stomach for a moment before managing to get out, "One would be celebrating if one didn't have to put up with _you_ for the rest of time,"

He chuckled against her neck, ignoring her reply, brushing her chocolate braid over one shoulder with long fingers, as he arrogantly said, "Come my dear, you make me sound like the worst company in the world. You could do much, much worse, trust me,"

"I could much, much better too," Raven snorted in derision, producing a small silk bag of bullets from her coat pocket to refill her pistol but before she could she suddenly found herself face to face with a smirking Reaver, one slender ink eyebrow raised in surprise.

"Impossible."

Raven brushed his comment aside with a mocking snort and a roll of brown doe eyes, before catching his gaze with a coy grin and just the faintest hint of eyelash batting, "Why Ser, you sound like you're worried about me. What happened to Reaver looks out only for Reaver?"

If it had been anyone else Raven would have been surprised when she felt the biting sting of cold steel pressed against her temple, the glint of polished red enamel in the sunlight sparkling in the corner of her eye, but as it was the young hero simply sighed, shaking her head at the pair of nobles who stopped to observe the scene with ashen faces, and stated, "You're no fun,"

"Au Contraire, ma Cherie, I think you'll find I'm quite entertaining," Reaver purred, finger pressed to the trigger of his Dragonstomper, and cocked his head to the side watching her reaction with sealed off eyes. Raven had the sensation of being inspected, like a specimen trapped in a glass jar as people crowded around to gawk at it. She didn't like the feeling.

"If you weren't you, I would have already blown your brain outs simply for insolence," He stated, twirling a lock of chocolate brow curls around one slender finger. Raven noted that sometime during their little "talk" he had removed his gloves.

"And what difference does who I am make?" Raven asked hesitantly, unsure whether she wanted to know the answer but damn sure not about to let him know that. The euphoria of her earlier tournament was still rushing through her veins, making her bolder than she usually would be.

"Not much," Reaver admitted with a smug grin when he face fell for the slightest second, "But for now you are more use to me alive than dead, as fun as killing the Rebel Queen would be,"

A chill slipped down the young hero's spine at his words, so cold yet she knew they were true, wincing at the way that realization stung, before asking, "And when I am no use to you?"

He stepped back, an unkind smile stretching his thin lips and enhancing the angles of his face where this would have made other men ugly and twisted it only served to make him more handsome, as he simply said, "We shall see, won't we, mon Corbeau?"

And then Reaver was holstering his precious pistol and walking away, turning his back on the only half-shocked young queen.

But Raven was hyped-up and itching for action and feeling the sudden urge for violence and beyond anything else she was _angry, _his words having cut deeper than she would have liked or ever cared to admit. The little girl she had been may have gone, but in her place was a woman who had been forged in the fires of hell and carved by the double-edged sword of betrayal and deceit. And that woman was stronger than anyone had ever thought she could be, including herself.

So Raven reached out and caught Reaver by his forearm, pulling him back with her hero-blood enhanced strength, and in one swift motion stood on her tippy toes, reached around his neck to thread her fingers through the silk black fur of his collar, and pressed her lips to his. She didn't care that there was a collective gasp to the crowd of simpering nobles around her, didn't care that she was pressed so close to Reaver that they simply couldn't get any more melded with clothes on. Raven wanted to be stupid and reckless, and _free_, and, and, he tasted like expensive wine and cigars and his lips moulded perfectly to hers and she didn't even shiver as his hands slid down her sides from the curve of her breast to settle on her hips. She spun them around so she was leaning against his chest and he against the rickety fence surrounding the training ground, hooking one arm behind his head and using her free hand to run through ink black curls and transport the signature tophat from his head to hers. The young hero didn't hesitate when a tongue flicked against her lips, gasping and admitting it entry when a leg pushed between her own two.

Raven's mind was a haze of desire and with every movement or sound sent ripples of fire and pleasure coursing through her body, unforgiving and begging her just to give in. But she had started this impromptu plan with revenge in mind and she had not come so far only to give in just because Reaver was kissing her neck and he was incredibly talented at this and _oh right there_.

_I can do this_, She repeated in her mind over and over to dispel the fog, but it was like running through water and it took all her concentration.

Reaver was so distracted by the sudden, and not altogether unwanted, turn of events that he didn't see the Rebel Queen's hand free itself from the confines of his hair and make its way to the juncture of his legs, didn't see the dangerous entity of fire flickering from her fingertips, ready and waiting to consume its target. A sick sort of satisfaction filled Raven as she released the spell and watched Reaver's eyes widen in shock, staring at her like she was a foreign entity for a second, before he crumpled to the ground with a loud groan that sounded halfway between hysterical laughter and pure agony.

Mission accomplished.

"I always get the last laugh," Raven murmured into his ear, leaning down and keeping one hand on the Dragonstomper strapped to his thigh at all times, before smiling and giggling, "And I'll be keeping this,"

And with that she spun on a booted heel and walked away with her head held high in the air and a swagger in her hips that no-one had seen in Albion for a very long time, a bubble of pure elation bursting open in her chest and she couldn't help but grin when she was safely away from the crowd, and out of range of Reaver's temper, and making her way up to the castle. From the doorway to the servant's quarters Rebel bounded out, having been mysteriously missing for the duration of the day (hiding, no doubt), a ball of monochrome fur and speed, with his tongue hanging out and his tail wagging happily and he barked when Raven caught up to him and placed a hand on his furry head. If dogs could laugh then Raven swore that Rebel would have been rolling around on the floor in stitches.

But then her companion looked at her with those sad puppy eyes that seemed so much more infinite and wise then anyone she had ever met, and Raven groaned, the consequences of her actions running through her mind in a tidal wave and the headgear she now sported seeming suddenly heavier. Somehow she still couldn't quite bring herself to regret it.

"I know," The Rebel Queen sighed when her dog whined in response, "But not now."

Raven was playing with fire, a child taunting a beast so much colder and so much older than she was and what she thought he was, and she was certain that one day she would be burned for good, and maybe this time she wouldn't recover. But not tonight. She wouldn't worry about that tonight. That night she was free, and happy, and for once she didn't wonder what became of the little girl that Reaver had found crying in the garden.

_I can do this._

A/N: I'm Baaaacccckkkk~! I've decided I like feisty Raven and can anyone say goodness gracious great balls of fire? After many a month of hair pulling and plot-destroying (*Cough* and Xbox Playing *Cough*) and rewriting this chapter is finally done and I am happy with it. Touch wood. Anyway, forgiveness for the wait plz? If anyone's been wondering I have been working on an original fiction up on fictionpress (link in my profile) which is part of the reason this chapter's been so delayed (nasty little thing inspiration can be) and I've also been trying to incorporate some new writing styles into my own so hopefully this chapter doesn't suck (Please tell me if it does~!). Thanks so much to those who reviewed, favourited and story alerted, you guys keep me going and please keep them coming! (32 Reviews, omgawesomesauceIloveyouguys~!)


	9. An Update

Hey Guys, so this is an update on what has been happening in my world, and why the next chapter has been and is going to be delayed for a little bit longer. I thought I owed you guys, as my awesome readers, an explanation; so sorry if you thought this was another chapter (My Bad XD).

First things first the reason this chapter has been taking so long is because of exams and other school related stuff that needed my attention, and then a few personal issues, and then I got extremely ill for about two weeks during which time I got hardly get out of bed, and then I developed a nasty sinus infection from my illness (God apparently hates me T.T) which took me out of action for another two weeks. The upside to all this illness is that I have had time to write down a storm of story ideas that should keep me going for a few life-times~!

Also now that I'm finally able to get back into writing and am super pumped for it, my stupid computer decided that it's going to die on me (WHY STEPHEN! WHYYYYY!) and I lost all my music and reference pictures. Thankfully I managed to back up all my stories but unfortunately I don't have a computer to write on (I'm writing and uploading this from a friends).

Let's just say I've been a very sad panda .

Now why it's going to be a little while yet is because tomorrow I'm getting on a 25 hour flight to France, and then Italy, for two weeks to celebrate my mother's 50th birthday (Yay for Mama Rose!) and I won't be able to get a new computer until we get back. Fortunately all that time on an airplane will give me time to write out the rest of the plot for Bulletproof which should make the chapters come _much _quicker.

Now I do have some good news for you, before my computer died I managed to get out the first chapter of a new Dragon Age fanfiction that I've been working on, named Broken Hero, which I will be uploading right after this so if you could check that it (If you want to, that is. No Pressure. DO IT!) and review that would make my crappy months just instantly disappear. Also I have written about three pages worth of chapter 9, I'm quite proud of it actually, so if you want me to upload that before I leave, leave a review and I will.

I hope you guys understand, and forgive me for my crappy immune system and laziness. Just know that I appreciate all you do and getting reviews and favourites in my email makes me so happy, it gives me strength to keep writing knowing that someone out there likes it. I love you guys, and please no-one bite or rip any of their limbs off, I'm not good with blood XD.

- Love Lorelai Rose


End file.
